On the Wrong Side of Sanity
by Ebony Scales
Summary: Power. It is always said to corrupt. Once you have it, do you still try to forgive those who have betrayed you? Some crimes cannot be forgiven. What do you do then? Post OoTP. Not completely HBP compliant.
1. Introducing: Me!

Hello everyone! This chapter is like a letter to the reader, the rest do not follow the same setup. This was what first developed the character in my mind, so I included it here.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I quite obviously make no money at all in writing this…

**On The Wrong Side of Sanity**

**Introducing: Me!**

If you're reading this, then you know me, or at least you know _of_ me and perhaps think you know me. Two very different concepts. Let's face it, I was famous before I even knew it and thus nearly every person who 'worships' me thinks they know me. Well, they don't. Usually, they don't even get within walking distance to the truth. Ask nearly anyone who is famous and they'll be able to tell you how almost the entirety of the general population deludes themselves into believing that they truly know their heroes. Okay, so few people actually _could_ ask someone famous. You still get what I'm trying to say, right?

I guess I'm getting off-topic, though it's not too surprising. What I'm trying to do is share my story: what happened to me and how everything turned out. I find it funny. Hilarious, actually. You might not. I'll just say that my sense of humor might be a bit skewed. It comes from a bit of a skewed life.

I guess I could jump right into the story, but I suppose you might want a little background information first, just to put things into perspective. Perspective. It's a funny word, isn't it? Per-spec-tive. You get a different one each time you talk to someone. Oh well, never mind that. Let's get on with it.

So, we'll skim over all of the boring stuff so that we can really get in to what I want to talk about. The skewing of my life happened quite early. I mean, usually people's lives start getting screwed up around the teenage years, maybe later. Oh, right. On to the facts. My parents died when I was very young, so I was pushed off onto some relatives for protection and to be with my remaining blood family and all that rot. I wasted eleven years of my life with my Aunt, Uncle and Cousin (who happened to be fat enough to feed an entire village, except I'm not too certain about the nutritional value of blubber). They were truly awful people. No, they didn't abuse me or anything, I just was never a part of their family. I guess it was a fear thing, they couldn't stand my type. After those years of living among the most boring family you could possibly imagine (they would call themselves 'normal', of course), I was invited to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Oh yeah, guess I forgot to mention I was a wizard. Funny that. Anyway, I finally made friends, found out I was famous, and had a generally exciting time. Only one catch:

Voldemort.

Or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who or even Tom Riddle. Call him the Irate Jester for all I care. It doesn't really matter what you call him. He's the Mr. Big-Bad-And-Evil of my little fairy tale. Of course he's not the only one, but that won't really matter until later. Now that I think of it, I'm pretty sure that fairy tales are supposed to end in happily ever after. You know what I'm talking about, like the kiddies' version of Snow White or something. Oh, never mind.

Anyway, I have had practically yearly encounters with Snake-head since I've started school at Hogwarts, all of which I've obviously survived (I highly doubt a ghost would be able to write this). I eventually found out why he continues to try so hard to kill me when the Headmaster of my school decided it was time to let me in on that little secret. It only took five years of panic, fear, stupid adventures, and one really screwed up rescue attempt for him to finally decide that. Oh, Dumbledore. He surely meant well. He was simply always so mysterious when it came to information about my life. You see, one of my Professors (a rather batty one at that) made a prophecy that I would be the one that's destined to fight the Dark Lord. I must say it was a pretty sucky revelation, especially since it came right after the death of my Godfather, Sirius, a man that I had met in my third year of Hogwarts; only about two years before. I had grown close to him in those two years, so I can say that I was devastated. Obviously it was right after that bit of catastrophe that I was told that I had to kill the strongest dark wizard since Grindlewald or be killed myself. Yeah, thanks for the pick-me-up, Headmaster.

By the way, my name is Harry Potter, if you haven't already figured that out.

So my goal in life is apparently to get rid of Mr. Big-Bald-And-Angry while trying not to be killed by people who hate me for, well, living in general. I'd say that my friends make it all easier, but…well interpersonal relationships are difficult enough for any _normal_ young adult. Imagine if _you _had some insane wacko after you. Seriously, nothing makes that easier. Nothing. Mind you, I'm not saying that I don't appreciate my friends. They've always tried to be there for me. I mean, they're the reason why I was so infatuated with the Wizarding World when I was first introduced to it. But they could never be a barrier from the complete horror that was Lord Voldemort.

And now that we have covered all of that, we can finally get into what happened around the time things started all spinning out of control. Spinning is pretty fun when you're bored, but let me tell you, from what I remember, a life spinning out of control just isn't the same. It's all the sick vertigo feeling you get afterward and none of the pleasant dizziness and excitement you'd get while actually spinning. I guess the easiest way to say it is that it sucks. It well and truly sucks.

Well, let's get on to the story before I get off-topic again, shall we? We'll begin with my sixth year of Hogwarts, somewhere near Christmas, I believe.

Please review. Ideas, thoughts, anything. Feel free to point out anything in my story. Any reviews are better than none at all. Thanks!

Edit(9/22/14) - Just Going through and fixing the chapter numbers. No big changes.


	2. The Calm that Comes Before

Here we go on the second chapter! Don't forget that I encourage comments!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I quite obviously make no money in writing this…

**On The Wrong Side of Sanity**

**Chapter 1: The Calm that Comes Before**

I woke up for the second time that morning, still a bit too early. The sun hadn't yet peeked out from over the horizon, and most of the school was still comfortably asleep. Sleeping in a dorm with loudly snoring classmates had always been somewhat difficult because I was such a light sleeper, but it had been an even more difficult trick to master ever since Sirius died. The nightmares of his death didn't help, not when I would wake up just about to scream his name, hoping desperately that I could reverse his fall into the veil or go back to prevent it. The seemingly sparse amount of time that I've had to myself to get through the grief just hasn't been enough.

After laying in bed for ten minutes staring at the ceiling and listening to Ron, Seamus, and Dean snoring, I decided to get up and head to the showers. It was a relief to finally get up after trying so long in vain to get more sleep. I swung my feet over the side of the bed and stood up quickly. I was briefly assaulted by dizziness from standing up so fast, but it swiftly passed. The cold floor woke me up a little more, though I still wished for a pair of slippers. After grabbing my glasses from the bedside table, I rummaged through my trunk to find some clothes, having some difficulty in the early morning darkness. I passed Neville on my way to the showers. It was slightly surprising to see him awake already.

"Morning, Harry," he mumbled.

I nodded in return and continued on to take my morning shower. The water splashed out of the shower head outrageously cold until I gathered my wits enough to realize that I had turned the wrong knob too far. Merlin, I needed sleep. My shower finished, I dried off and threw some clothes on before heading out to the common room with plans to put some finishing touches on an essay that was due in charms. I got somewhat distracted by a spat in the common room between a couple of third year students, but the two participants soon left for their respective dormitories. With the common room empty, I took a seat and stared at the parchment in front of me, having no real energy to start adding whatever points that I had forgotten to write about earlier.

A sound coming towards me some few minutes later woke me from my staring contest with the parchment. Wryly, I noted that the essay had won. Looking around, I saw that the common room had filled up a bit more. A few first years were sitting at another small table across the room, leaning over the large table to look at each other's assignments. I guess procrastination was a rather Gryffindor trait. The only exception I could think of was Hermione and Percy. Lavender Brown sat in one of the large armchairs in front of the fire reading a textbook, most likely trying to get ready for classes today, or perhaps getting up to date with the latest fashions. With girls, who knew? Hermione approached me from the opposite side of the common room at a swift pace, books in hand and ready for the day.

"Do you know if Ron is almost ready? We really don't want to be too much longer. I'm pretty sure Professor Snape hinted at a pop quiz over the areas that are most likely to hide a Lethifold and how to spot and repel them for today," she said, worrying her bottom lip. I don't think she's noticed that habit. I shrugged in answer to her question before turning my attention elsewhere. I wasn't really awake enough, nor in the mood to hold a conversation at the moment.

The view from the window caught my attention. The darkness had fled the sky with the rising of the sun, making the stars fade away into nothing. Snow blanketed the ground outside, creating the illusion that the ground was smooth and unblemished despite the near constant use from the many students residing in the castle. The many branches of the evergreen trees near the edge of the Forbidden Forest bent slightly under the weight of the snow they now carried. It was the first heavy snow of winter, and the sun was nearly blinding with the light of the morning reflecting off of the freshly fallen snow. This early in the day, there were no tracks in the snow, and the evidence of people walking on the grounds had been erased by the most recent snowfall.

In the chair across from me, Hermione shifted in impatience, still worrying her bottom lip.

Soon enough, Ron galloped down the stairs as he usually did and the three of us headed to the Great Hall. There wasn't much talk between us this early in the morning, as Hermione was the only one of us who was able to truly wake up before breakfast, and even she usually had a spot of tea to help her through morning classes. After entering the Hall, I took a moment to glare at Malfoy as we walked to the Gryffindor table. He ignored it, and I almost felt a little put-out that he hadn't risen to the bait. Malfoy-baiting was a great way to start the morning and chase away any remaining feelings of melancholy from the poor sleep I've been getting.

The owl post came while I was working on finishing the last of my eggs. A speckled brown owl dropped the Prophet in front of Hermione and flew off once she had placed a few Knuts in the pouch it carried. One of the bird's feathers floated down into my orange juice once it had taken flight. With a sigh, I pushed the glass away. While I was busy mourning the loss of my drink, Hermione was perusing the front page for any relevant stories. After a few minutes, she shook her head in sadness and handed the front page to me.

"There was another attack. A small half-blood family near London," she informed me. I looked over the article Hermione had pointed out to me, skimming over the facts. It looked like the attacked had been somewhat expected, because the family had obviously fought back. There had been reports of Bellatrix Lestrange in the area, and so it was widely believed that she had been the culprit of the attack.

Lestrange. There were only a few people that I hated with such a passion, and she was among them. My hands gripped the paper tightly as I thought about what that bitch had done. My knuckles turned white from the grip I had on the paper. With a deep, calming breath, I put the paper down, not wanting to think about how that family had most likely suffered at her hands. Lestrange was a sadistic bitch, her track record with previous victims, such as the Longbottoms, only proved that.

"Harry, you ok, mate?"

I looked at Ron, who was still stuffing his mouth with the sausages, and nodded before turning back to my own breakfast.

"I'm fine."

After breakfast we made our way to the defense classroom and saw the usual pack of students waiting at the door. No one wanted to be late to Defense Against the Dark Arts class anymore. Not ever. Being late was akin to simply inviting Snape to rip into you like an angry Horntail. Like the git ever actually needed a reason more than the general existence of children.

I was still disappointed by the fact that Snape now had the post as the defense professor. It had been my favorite subject at Hogwarts since I first arrived, despite a number of less than desirable professors (Umbrige and Lockheart being at the top of that list). Snape was the one teacher I just couldn't stomach, even when he wasn't singling me out, and unlike almost any professor before him, with the exception of the Ministry's lackey - Dolores Umbrige, he was able to make me honestly dislike coming to the class. I was not sure whether the break I was getting in Potions class with Professor Slughorn was even worth it.

Snape glided into the room with his usual flair and barked out orders to sit down and shut up, and which page today's lesson was over. After opening the book, I saw that we were working on the movements to a few counter curses. I looked over to Hermione and could see from the set of her lips that she was actually disappointed that there was no pop quiz after all.

I looked at my book and got started reading about the counter to the disfigurement curse and practicing the wand movements, getting irritated for no real reason that I could decipher. It was just that kind of day.

"Potter! If you keep waving your wand around like that, you are more likely to _decapitate_ some unsuspecting fool rather than actually save them! I have absolutely no idea how you have confounded any of your previous professors into giving you anything but failing marks," Snape suddenly yelled, snapping me out of my thoughts. Snape then returned to his desk mumbling under his breath about incompetence and the like.

Well, I had found my reason. I looked back to the book and saw that I had skipped a line while reading. It was even worse when Snape was actually right. The professor started lecturing us a few minutes later about the counter curses that we were working on, and I just tuned him out. I really didn't feel in the mood to listen to him now, even if the counter curses he was talking about _could_ save me in a fight.

My bad mood continued to plague me throughout the class. I generally hate being even remotely near our esteemed ex-Potions Master, no matter the reason. While I clearly understood that it was my irresponsible actions that lead to Sirius's death, I still blamed him for being such an arse about things. If he hadn't treated me so horribly and had actually tried to teach me Occlumency, I wouldn't have gone on that ill-planned rescue attempt. Hell, if he had tried to inspire just the least amount of trust in me, I would have left him to take care of things. Maybe. It didn't matter now, though. Sirius had already died; there was no changing that now. I was brought out of my thoughts as the class ended and everyone packed up quickly to leave, relieved to get away from the normally ill-tempered professor.

Ron and Hermione joined me in the hallway to walk to Charms. It was then that I remembered that I had never gotten around to putting the finishing touches on my essay. At least I had already pretty much finished it. Ron, on the other hand, had waited until after dinner last night to even start working on it, and had tried to rope Hermione into helping him. As usual, it hadn't worked.

We entered the Charms classroom together, nearly the last to arrive. Professor Flitwick was crouched behind the podium, straightening the books that he often used as a stepping stool. The three of us settled down in our usual seats in the back of the room, and prepared ourselves for the class. Once everyone was seated and quiet, Professor Flitwick started the lesson.

"Today, we will be working on a spell to make objects react to people. This can take the shape of a door opening whenever someone approaches, or a cloak holder bending over a bit to be more accessible. This spell has even been used on gargoyles guarding properties; however the spellwork for a complete working gargoyle is far beyond what we will be doing today. We will be charming doorknockers to knock whenever they are approached. Now, since you have already learned the sticking charm, you may go ahead and stick your doorknocker to the wall, when you are finished, please stand quietly beside it while I show you the correct spell," he informed the class.

Charms passed relatively quietly, with only a few mistakes here and there while the doorknockers where charmed to stick themselves to a wall and animated. Thankfully there were no unfortunate explosions, although one Hufflepuff accidentally charmed his own robe to stick to the ceiling, leaving him hanging until Professor Flitwick noticed the boy's predicament. I couldn't help but laugh a bit as the Hufflepuff tried to explain how he had made that mistake. After the class, we packed up our belongings and headed to lunch. Ron and Hermione chatted around me, which was actually somewhat comforting. Nothing was required of me except to listen, and I still felt like a part of the group. I'm honestly glad that they acted like nothing was wrong right now, though sometimes I feel like an arse for not talking with them more. Maybe it's because I was still keeping that great secret to myself: the Prophecy.

There _had_ been chances to tell them, many chances. Especially during my stay at the burrow over the summer. The words just wouldn't come out, and I honestly don't know why. I felt awkward every time I tried to get myself to tell them. Maybe I should just get it over with. I have to eventually. It wouldn't be fair to them, otherwise. But, I suppose that conversation would have to wait a bit longer.

With lunch over, Ron and I headed back to the Gryffindor common room for our free period while Hermione went off to her Arithmancy class. It was a good thing that I could relax now, especially with the awful sleep I got. After what felt like fifteen rounds of being trounced at chess and then a bit of fun with exploding snap, Hermione met up with us again and we all headed to double Potions with Professor Slughorn.

A few hours later, Ron, Hermione, and I were heading down to the Great Hall for dinner. The sound of the many conversations in the Great Hall reached out into the hallway. Occasionally, the sound of laughter from behind the doors would drown out everything else.

How many times had I walked into that hall and had hundreds of eyes follow me in fear? In hatred? How about adoration? One could start to hate this hall with all of the numerous uncomfortable moments I had suffered here. Still, it had happened in the past and will probably happen again in the future. Nothing I could really change about that, was there?

When the three of us entered the Great Hall and sat down in our usual spot at the table, Ron turned to me.

"So, do you wanna come over to my house for Christmas break? Mum said she'd love you have you over. It'll be cool," he asked.

I honestly had to think about whether I really wanted to go. I saw as Ron's eyes flicked over to Hermione. It was obvious neither of them wanted me to stay at the castle alone. I guess it would be more enjoyable at the Burrow, though. It would also be a good time to tell them about the prophecy if Hermione visited, since there wouldn't be any classes that they could be distracted from.

"Umm..sure. Yeah, that sounds good," I replied. I could have agreed with a bit more enthusiasm, but now I was nervous. I still didn't feel ready to tell them. Ron, however, seemed relieved that I had agreed.

"Great! Hermione said that she'd be able to come over sometime, too," Ron exclaimed happily.

After dinner, the three of us gathered in the Gryffindor common room in front of the fireplace; a very popular area, especially during the winter months. We each settled in our favorite spots in the overstuffed armchairs to spend some quiet time just hanging out. Hermione got out a book, and looked ready to settle down for what she would call some 'light reading'. Ron and I sat back in our chairs, staring drowsily at the low-burning fire in the hearth, enjoying how the fire warmed our toes.

"Ron, have you started packing yet?" Hermione asked after a few minutes, giving Ron a look that clearly stated her assumption on the matter. "You know, there are only a few more days left until Christmas break begins."

"Oi, gimme a break, 'Mione. It's not like we're leaving tomorrow," he complained. Hermione just rolled her eyes and then looked at me expectantly.

"I don't really have much left to pack, so no worries there," I told her. She leaned back in her chair, seeming satisfied with my answer and so letting me off the hook for the moment. I was sure that the break wouldn't last too long.

The next few days passed even slower than I thought possible, mostly because I was looking forward to the break from school work, even if I was somewhat dreading the talk that I knew I would have to have with my two best friends.

When the time came to leave for break, Ron was unsurprisingly throwing clothes that were laying on the floor into his wooden chest without thought, trying to hurry as much as he could. I waited for him to finish packing, watching him throw things around from the comfort of my bed. My clothes were already packed, and sat next to my bed.

"Did you really have to wait until the _very_ last second to pack?" I asked, tossing him a pair of pants that had hit me in the face in their brief flight towards his luggage.

"Oh, shut it. I'm almost done, anyway," he snapped as he threw one of his knitted sweaters in with the rest of his clothes.

With the last of his belongings finally stuffed into the chest and the lid forced shut, the two of us headed down the stairs toward the common room.

Hermione was waiting for us when we came down the stairs from the boy's dormitories, her luggage sat on the floor beside her and her arms crossed. She greeted us with a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head.

"I told you that you should start packing early," she said.

"Don't look at me! I was done packing hours ago!" I replied, my hands raised in defense. Pointing to Ron, I continued. "He was the one holding us up."

Ron sent me a glare, and I decided that it was probably time to lay off teasing him for a while. Hermione just rolled her eyes again and moved us toward the hall.

The scene at the train was the same as it always was. Students were all chatting happily among themselves, glad to be out of classes for the winter holidays. Many people were rushing here and there to find an empty compartment. Every once in a while I could see the professors that were prowling along the train, making sure no squabbles started and keeping things as organized as possible so the train could leave on time. It was almost odd to see how normal everything was, even though everyone knew that Voldemort was really back and that people might die. It took a second for me to realize that, even though everyone looked happy and carefree, there were plenty of people who looked tenser. I could see older students scanning the crowd around them more often instead of allowing themselves to get lost in conversation with their friends. It was a sad change to see, though it made me feel somewhat better to know that my friends and I weren't the only ones.

Ginny found us as we were getting on the train and guided the three of us to a compartment that she had found near the back. When everyone had situated their belongings, we sat down to chat while we waited for the train to leave Hogsmeade Station. The conversation was rather lighthearted, about nothing more important than the latest pranks that had been pulled or who had recently been forced to have detention with Filch. It was refreshing. The train finally pulled out of the station while the four of us were talking about our plans for the holidays.

"Well, my parents had been talking about taking a small trip to Spain, but I'm not sure now. The last time I owled them, they wrote back about something going on with work. But they did say that I would be able to spend four days at the Burrow!" Hermione said.

"Hopefully I'll still be home when you visit," Ginny said. "Luna invited me over to spend the night sometime over the holiday."

"Where is she, by the way," I asked. "I figured she'd sit with us on the train."

"She was invited to sit with some other sixth year Ravenclaws. I think she's gotten a little more popular with her house since she started hanging out with you," Ginny replied.

I couldn't help but wonder if the other Ravenclaws had really changed their opinion of Luna. Five years of being mostly ostracized from her house because of her interest in beings that most people considered make-believe couldn't have changed just like that. Still, I hoped that these Ravenclaws were actually interested in getting to know Luna.

Ginny and I started a game of wizarding chess while Ron watched us play, occasionally letting us know when one of us had made a wrong move. Hermione settled back to read a textbook about Transfiguration. An hour later, a light tap on the door to our compartment caught our attention. The door opened to reveal Luna, who promptly made herself comfortable next to me and Ginny.

"I thought you were sitting with some other Ravenclaws," Ron said, looking up from the chessboard. I saw Hermione look up from her book to level a small glare at Ron for his tactless words before turning her attention to Luna.

"They seemed to be infested with Kippyflets, which made them focus on just one subject and unable to talk about anything else. They didn't want me to help get rid of the Kippyflets, so I left before they got to me too," Luna explained. Curious, I couldn't help but ask.

"What were they talking about?"

Luna looked at me, her eyes sharper than usual, before she simply replied, "You."

Well, _that _figures. I shouldn't have been so surprised. I was also rather disappointed that Luna still didn't really have friends in her own house.

Once Luna got out her most recent issue of the Quibbler, she settled back and studied whatever was on the page that she had opened to. The rest of the compartment went back to what they were doing before Luna had entered. Not long afterwards, Neville also joined us in the compartment, saying that he needed a break from whatever argument Seamus and Dean had gotten into.

When we finally arrived at Kings Cross Station and got off of the train, the station was as hectic as it always was. Neville's Grandmother found us right away. I watched her as she walked over to us, her stride swift, rather like that of Professor Snape's. After a quick goodbye, Neville was herded out of the station under the intimidating eyes of his grandmother. Luna saw her father next, and made her way over to him with a content smile on her face.

Five minutes later, two hands landed hard on my shoulders. I spun around quickly, my heart nearly in my throat, and almost pulled my wand on Fred and George, both of which had wide grins on their face. Next time they did that, they were liable to get cursed. It would serve them right. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came up close behind them.

"Everyone ready to go?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Well, Hermione's parents haven't shown up yet," Ron replied. "Could we wait for them?"

"Oh, of course! We wouldn't leave you here alone, dearie," Mrs. Weasley said to Hermione.

It was about ten minutes later that the Grangers finally made it to the station. I was the first to notice them as they hurried over.

"Oh Hermione, we're sorry we're so late. The office held us up, and then the traffic was absolutely awful. Are you all ready to go? Your grandmother should be at the house soon, and we still need to ready the guest room for her," Mrs. Granger said hastily. Hermione just smiled and nodded before turning around to say goodbye.

"I'll see you guys soon. Hope you have a great Christmas!" she said before giving Ron and then me a hug.

Once Hermione was gone, it was time for the rest of us to go as well. The trip was blessedly short, and soon everyone was carrying their luggage up to their rooms at the Burrow. I gratefully sat down on my bed in Ron's room, comforted by the sight of the familiar walls, and even by the sounds of cooking coming from the kitchen.

It felt like home.

_**A/N**_**: **_Don't worry about the slow pace, things are GOING DOWN soon. A nice little intro before we really get down into the fun stuff. So no worries, 'cause we're goin' places ladies and gents! _

_Please feel free to review. And when I say feel free, I mean just do it... Put pen to paper, or pixel to screen, either way, share your thoughts!_

_Edit (9/22/14) - Just going through the story and fixing the chapter numbers._


	3. All in a Hand Basket

_**A/N: **__Thanks for reading, folks! Things are going a bit slower than I had anticipated for these first few chapters as I read through them over and over to avoid having to go back and make corrections after posting. Don't worry, though! I'm working on getting chapters out as soon as I'm satisfied with them._

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I quite obviously still make no money in writing this…

**On The Wrong Side of Sanity**

**Chapter 2: All in a Hand Basket**

_Life is the fire that burns and the sun that gives light._

_Life is the wind and the rain and the thunder in the sky._

_Life is matter and is earth, what is and what is not, and what beyond is in Eternity._

_-__Lucius Annaeus Seneca_

I ran through the tall grass as fast as I could, my breath coming in gasps. I was running out of energy, my pace slowing. The tall dead grass kept the ground hidden, and slowed my pace even more. My foot caught on a rock as I ran, causing me to tumble to the ground as I had several times already. Each time I fell wasted precious seconds that I didn't have to spare. I pushed myself back up, and started trying to make up for the time I had spent getting back to my feet. My ankle began to throb in protest to the abuse. I wasn't really sure I could outrun the inevitable this time. I closed my eyes and came to a stop, bending at the waist to try to catch my breath a little. The stillness of the night mocked me.

Bellatrix was standing mere meters away from me when I finally looked up, her eyes shining in horrible anticipation. Her breathing was as heavy as mine, and sweat speckled her forehead. The cool night's breeze ruffled the woman's matted hair. I stared at her in abject horror. The madwoman cackled in glee, my wand held loosely in her left hand, her own wand in her right. My heart seemed as if it was beating in my throat and my legs felt nearly numb. I was terrified. I wasn't yet ready to give up, but I felt as if I had run out of options.

"Poor wittle Harry. Are you all alone? Little boys out at night need to be punished," she shouted at me, grinning wildly. I stared at her, unable to draw my gaze away. I was angry; at her, at the fear that I felt, and at the whole situation. No, it was more than anger. I felt rage.

Pure _**rage**__._

She should be dead. I hated her. I hated her, and I wanted her dead. With or without a wand, I could take her down and make her regret everything. I would make her _beg._

I would make her pay.

I started to charge her, wanting to take her to the ground, but suddenly her wand was up and leveled at me. I saw her lips move, but I didn't hear what she said. It seemed as if I saw the red light gather at the tip of the wand in slow motion. The light hit me in the chest with enough force to send me falling backwards.

The ground did not come up to meet me.

I woke with a gasp, wrapped in my bed covers as if I had been tossing in my sleep all night. The details of the dream began to fade as soon as I realized that I had been dreaming. Soon, all I could recall was that the dream had been about _her_ again. I couldn't even remember if Sirius had been a part of it or not, like it seemed he often was nowadays.

I slid out of bed in a heap and threw on some clothes so that I could go downstairs where, hopefully, breakfast was waiting. As I stumbled down the stairs, I was able to hear the sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen which brought a small smile to my face. Mrs. Weasley was already bringing food out to the table, with Hermione, who had arrived a few days earlier, to help.

"Here, dear. You go ahead and sit down now. Breakfast is just about done. If you want, you can go make sure the boys are up," said the Weasley matron. Hermione nodded and turned towards the stairs. She smiled when she saw me there, and whispered a good morning as she passed on her way to wake up the rest of the house.

I made my way over to the table and sat down comfortably. After having spent so much time in the Burrow after being introduced to the wizarding world, it felt like my home. Five minutes later, everyone was sitting around the table and digging in to the wonderful breakfast.

"Hey, Harry. You wanna go check out the village today? Hermione mentioned that she wants to get out or something," Ron said around a mouthful of pancakes, which earned him a glare from the witch that was mentioned.

"Sure," was my only response. I certainly wanted out of the house for a bit. I loved the Burrow, it was like a home. It was comfortable here, but having been kept inside for so long was tiring.

"Cool," Ron mumbled after swallowing his food first for once. "We'll go around noon or so. More stores will be open then."

Noon turned into three o'clock, after a game of two-on-two quidditch between me, Ron, and the twins ran on too long. As Hermione, Ron, and I walked through the muggle village, I wondered how different things could have been if I had lived here instead of at Private Drive. People seemed to be kinder here, at least. Not in as much of a rush as it seemed everyone was in where I had grown up. The three of us spent an hour or so just looking through the shops or whatever other buildings caught our fancy. Ron was especially interested in a movie theater, which had bright flashing lights around the entrance. Hermione decided that since Ron had never actually gone to a muggle theater before, we could catch a movie later in the day if we had the time.

After some time of following my two friends around more shops, and a bit of time watching Hermione glare at Ron for saying something stupid, I came up with an excuse to slip away.

"Hey guys, there's something that I need to go pick up," I said, watching as they turned their attention to me.

"Oh, ok. Sure. Where'd you wanna go? I don't need to look at these anyway. Out of my price range, you know," Ron said, indicating some jewelry that he had been looking at while giving Hermione sideways glances.

"Well, I kinda need to go alone. You know. There were some things I saw earlier," I said, hoping that they would just take me at my word. Naturally, it was Hermione that protested first.

"You know that we're supposed to stay together in the village! It's the only reason Mrs. Weasley let us go today!" she exclaimed. Ron simply rolled his eyes behind her.

"Hermione, no one in this village is going to attack me. Seriously, there are so many precautions being used for my stay here, I wouldn't be surprised if they had warded the entire area. I'm not going to be gone for hours on end. I just need to nip back and grab something. I'll be back shortly. Definitely in time for the movies, ok?" I nearly pleaded.

"C'mon Hermione, he said he won't be long. Jeeze, he's hardly even let out of the house!" Ron exclaimed. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him in response, but then seemed to deflate a bit.

"Oh, all right. Ron and I will stop at that café over there. Don't be long, ok? I swear, more than one hour and I will have the whole Order looking for you. Got it?" Hermione threatened.

"Loud and clear. Less than an hour. No problem," I responded, glad that I could get out of the village. As I turned around and walked away, I swore that I could still feel the bushy-haired witch's eyes still on me, as if I was going to try to disappear.

After wandering for only ten minutes, I started towards the nearby woods. To my surprise, I found a clearing that had absolutely no buildings near enough to be noticeable. It was relaxing.

The place was nice to look at, especially since it was so quiet. The birds were settling down in the light of dusk. Not even the normal day-to-day bickering between my friends could be heard from here. I was sadly glad to have snuck away. It didn't matter though; I'd see them in less than an hour or so.

A light breeze ruffled my clothes and hair. I took a deep, relaxing breath. Even the bitter cold of the day couldn't bother me at the moment. I so rarely had time for myself away from the prying eyes of fans and friends alike.

"I wish it could be like this forever," I said to no one but the sky. Maybe I was talking to myself, who knew? No one was here to hear me.

A branch cracked, and I startled. I glanced around, and saw the cause of the noise. Heavy snow had piled up on the branches of an old, frail tree. I nearly laughed at my own twitchiness. I watched as the snow fell to the ground in large clumps, and then stared at the area that it had landed. I was sure my time enjoying the freedom was about at an end. I knew I should go back to the village proper and actually pick up those gifts that I had hinted about before the shops all closed.

My way back to the village was slow and calm. I was in no rush to get back into the business of life, but I certainly couldn't hide from it forever. I could already see the first few houses. I looked back to my little hiding place once more and stopped. There was a dog there, which looked remarkably like the Grim. Like Sirius. I turned around and took a few steps toward the animal, my heart aching. The dog quickly ran off, obviously spooked. I stayed there a bit to stare at were the animal had stood, simply reminiscing, I'm not sure. It was the only reason that I noticed another form creeping up through the trees, staying low to the ground with a hand pointed in my direction. A hand which held a wand.

"Oooh, looky what we have here!"

I knew that voice, oh how I would _never_ forget that voice. It was her.

"Well, come on, dearest. Don't you want to play?" she asked; her sing-song voice just as grating as ever. "Doesn't baby want to play today?"

I took a step toward her, pulling my own wand out at the same time. Bellatrix was playing the same game as always. Taunt the target, make them mad. But with me, she didn't even really have to do that anymore. She had already done enough to my life. And I was _angry._ I wanted her to hurt.

I wanted her to _scream._

I narrowed my eyes at her, my palms were sweating, and the grip I had on my wand was hard enough to hurt. Lestrange brandished her wand, and a dark, sickly-looking curse hurled at me. I dived to the left, nearly hitting a tree, and returned the favor. The bitch didn't even bother to move, simply sending the curse in another direction. I felt my entire body tense in anger.

"Is that all you've got, Hawwy? Didn't your professors teach you any better? No? How about your mutt? Didn't he get to teach you anything about dueling before he died?" She giggled.

"Don't you DARE mention him!" I screamed. My sight nearly went red, and I was almost trembling in fury. I sent a body-bind in her direction. She merely stepped out of the way, and returned with a blood-boiling curse.

The next few moments came and went so fast, I wasn't even sure what happened. Spells were flying so fast, gouging holes into the trees, melting the snow around us in their brilliance. I couldn't lose, though. I had to win this.

I had to win, for _him_.

My wand arm was caught by one bright blue spell which made me gasp in pain, and my left knee felt as if it had caught on fire. I was desperate. I had no idea what spell she was using. How could I win? Would I die just like Sirius? By the wand of his insane relative?

NO.

No, no, no no no no no!

"I HATE YOU!" I screamed at her. My face felt hot, sweat, or maybe even tears ran down my face. My ears were ringing.

Spells flew out of my wand faster and faster. One spell nicked her in the neck, but it didn't slow her down at all. I felt desperate. I didn't want to die. I didn't care if _she _did, though_._

Finally, I hit her with something better. It was nothing but a leg-locker, which I didn't even remember throwing at her. It did the trick, though. The black-haired witch started to tumble, over-balanced and unable to take a step. I relaxed.

She didn't.

"_Scindam Faciem!"_ She screamed, her wand still somehow pointing directly at me.

I clutched my face as pain hit me. I was nearly blinded by my own blood. I heard Lestrange call out another spell, but nothing came in my direction. Even so, I quickly wiped the blood from my eyes as best I could, fearing to give her too much time to prepare. When I saw her again, she was once more standing comfortably, grinning at me with that awful smile, one only seen on the faces of maniacs.

"You're much more fun to play with than cousin dearest. He never put up quite a fight. I can still remember the surprised look on his face as he fell to his death. Can you? I've cherished that memory, you know. Only second best compared to the awfully loud screams of the Longbottoms. I only wish I could have been there for your parents, Potter." She took a second to grin at me before continuing, lavishing in her victory.

"I would have loved to make them scream, too. Maybe even give Lily to Greyback. Wouldn't that have been exciting? I'm sure Daddy dearest would ha-."

"Avada Kedavra!"

Lestrange never finished her sentence.

Blood pooled around Lestrange's head, a steady stream leaking from the small wound in her neck. Her head had fallen in just the right position to allow her blank eyes to stare back at me accusingly. I couldn't move. My breaths came in short gasps as I stared at the body in front of me. She was dead.

I had _killed_ her.

Nausea quickly assaulted me and bile rose in my throat. I fell to the ground heaving over and over; my stomach was determined to get rid of everything, while my face continued to drip blood into the snow around me.

She was _dead. _I _killed_ her and now she's dead.

I glanced at my wand lying innocently at my feet where I had dropped it. I couldn't believe it.

I'd just used the killing curse, and now Lestrange was dead. How had I done that? _Why had I done that?_

I finally collapsed backwards to sit once my stomach had stopped expelling everything it could. Shivers not caused by the chill night came over me. I heard a pop somewhere to my right, but ignored it in favor of just staring at the cooling body in front of me. It felt like it had been years since I had gone out to check out the muggle village with my friends. We were going to go out to dinner together and maybe to a movie after that. How did this happen?

A few more pops sounded around me, and then I noticed some people were yelling. I didn't look up at them until someone approached me.

"Mr. Potter? Mr. Potter, are you ok?"

I finally looked away from the dead woman to figure out what this new person wanted. It must have been an Auror from the look of his robes. He was walking towards me slowly, his wand lowered but still pointing at me. It finally clicked why there were Aurors here.

I had killed someone.

"Mr. Potter, I'm going to need to see your wand."

…

Here we are peeps! Finally another chapter comes out! Next one shouldn't take too long at all! Now be nice and review!

Edit (9/22/14) - The last chapter number that I needed to fix. No other changes.


	4. Dreams Would Be Kinder

Oh Goodness! The third chapter! It only took…quite a while, actually. To learn more, check out the Author's note at the bottom. Sorry!

Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Harry Potter and make no money. It belongs to J.K. Rowling.

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><p><strong>On the Wrong Side of Sanity<br>**

**Chapter 3: Dreams Would Be Kinder**

_Living is strife and torment,_

_disappointment and love and sacrifice,_

_golden sunsets and black storms.  
>-<em>_Laurence Olivier_

"_This is preposterous. It was obviously all in self-defense!"_

"_We're looking into it, Miss. Rest assured that we will give this case the full attention that it deserves. Aurors, seat him over there."_

"_It's okay, honey. We'll have this all worked out in no time at all. You just sit there like he said, and we'll get things settled. No worries, now. Where's his wand?"_

"_Harry! Harry, it's me. Harry, please say something! Why isn't he saying anything? Mum! What's going on?"_

"_Mrs. Weasley, we have his wand for inspection. Aurors, make sure he doesn't try to go anywhere. Keep him in sight at all times. No, Miss. You'll have to stay out of here. You are no blood-relative. I don't care if you've been his secret lover for years, this is for security."_

"_Mum! What happened?"_

"_Miss, I told you that you can't stay in here."_

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><p>The words all flew around me, past me, through me. All I could do was stare into space. I was in a room, a white one, I think. I couldn't really concentrate enough to know where I really was. All I knew was that there were a lot of people, all yelling, or at least talking fast. I was quite sure I could even hear someone crying. But I could not pay attention to any of it. Only to Lestrange. The woman that was now dead.<p>

I had seen death before. I had just never truly directly, inexplicably, and maybe even purposefully caused it. But things were different now. And the dull eyes of a dead woman had stared at me for what seemed like an eternity; they had stared accusingly. They knew what I had done. Now everyone else would, too. And they would accuse me, just like her eyes had.

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><p>"<em>Where are you taking him? Just look at all the blood on his face and shirt! He needs to see a Mediwitch!"<em>

"_His wounds will be taken care of as soon as we can document them."_

"_Document? You are going to take him to trial?"_

"_It is the law."_

"_Oh, poor dear. It will all be alright. We'll take care of everything, ok? Harry? Look at me, please. It's Mrs. Weasley. Everything is going to be fine."_

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><p>It was like waking into a dream; nothing seemed real enough. I was in a white room, sitting on a small white cot. I didn't have the energy or the will power to move my head much, so I simply moved my eyes alone, slowly taking in my surroundings. It took me even longer to comprehend them. This wasn't a room, I finally understood.<p>

This was a cell.

I opened my mouth, intending to draw someone's attention, but my throat was dry, and the only thing that emerged was a low croak. I coughed from the discomfort and then cleared my throat to try once more.

"H-hello? Wha-where am I? What is going on? Anyone?" My voice was terrible. It must be easy to hear how terrified and confused I was.

It took what felt like hours for anyone to come to my room. My cell. My white, bare, tiny little cell with a small, white cot. And a door with a lock on the other side. They opened the door briskly and stepped inside, deliberately closing the door behind them. It was as if they were afraid that I would try something stupid; that I would try to escape. But how could I, locked in my guilt and disbelief as I was?

"Mr. Potter…" The man, no, the _Auror_ paused as if he wasn't quite sure what to say. Who could blame him? How many wizards not even out of school had killed someone during his years as an Auror. And how many of them were famous for being the 'Golden Boy' or the 'Chosen One'?

"What is going on? Why am I here? _Where_ is here?" I asked in quick succession, the words seeming to fall from my mouth before I could halt the flow. The Auror, whoever he was, took a deep breath as if to steady himself for a difficult conversation. I mimicked him.

"Mr. Potter," he finally began, "you are being charged with murder and the use of an unforgivable curse."

I thought I stopped breathing for a bit after his announcement. There was no need to ask again where I was, that was obvious. The Auror studied me, seeming unable to say any more. Although, what more needed to be said after that? How did you tell someone that they had screwed up so badly?

"When?" It was the only thing I could think of to ask at the moment. The man raised an eyebrow at me. I must have looked or sounded much calmer that I actually was. I hoped that was all.

"It may take some time. There is no date currently set for the hearing."

I nodded. What else was there to say now? I couldn't dispute anything. Not really. They were right; I had done both of those things. Maybe I should be raging against all of this. Maybe I would have, not even one full year ago. But now, all I could do was sit there and nod.

Maybe it was a dream.

I could hope, right?

The Auror left me alone once more, and I decided to lie down. Maybe the room would stop spinning around me then.

The next time that the door opened, it was for someone that I had definitely not expected to see. Not expected, although dearly wished to. Albus Dumbledore calmly stepped through the door and sat upon my small, white cot. He looked at me a bit before turning his head to regard the door that he had just come through. He seemed rather tired. For all that I had held against him for so long, it didn't matter anymore. I needed him. He could help me, like he had done before.

"I have talked to them, my boy. They insist that a trial needs to be held. 'The sooner, the better' is what they said. I'm afraid that I'm not sure if I can get you out of this."

He looked at me again, and it was easy to see the way his face seemed to droop a bit. There was no hint of the usual good humor in his eyes. None of the sparkle. He only seemed tired and sad.

"I didn't do it on purpose. You know that, right? It wasn't on purpose." My voice sounded sadly pleading, even to myself, but I wanted to make sure he understood. I never truly wanted this to happen, not any of it. Dumbledore just nodded. I had to turn away from him. I couldn't stand to see him look like that.

"What will happen?" I asked, still staring almost blindly at the wall behind him.

"It will be quite similar to the trial you had earlier this year, I'm afraid." I felt like I wanted to cry. The last time, I was full of righteous anger. I knew how to fight, and I trusted Dumbledore to help me do it. This time felt different. Horribly different. I wasn't sure that anyone would be able to get me out of this. I _had_ used an unforgivable curse. I had killed someone, and her eyes had accused me. I felt my breath hitch.

The saddest part was that I didn't even feel triumph. There was no victory over the woman who had killed Sirius and stolen away a chance at happiness. No feeling of vindication. There was simply disbelief. What had happened? How had the day gone so terribly wrong?

I hadn't even gotten the chance to see a movie with my friends.

It wasn't much longer until Dumbledore left, and I was alone again in that little white room: my cell.

Maybe this was all just a dream.

...

Alright everyone! Two chapters updates relatively quick, although this chapter is a bit shorter. Please note that I am not abandoning any of my fics at this time. Not even Barbed Roses. It has just been a rather long break that I've taken due to my personal and professional life. After losing chapters due to computer malfunction, as well as excursions out of the country in order to attend some schools, things have been hectic. While I am not abandoning any of my fics, I will be focusing more on Otwsos instead of the other two ongoing fics.

Now that I'm done with that, you may certainly proceed to give me reviews.


	5. Carry Me Away

Here we go! Another chapter for your enjoyment! Please take the time to submit a review. Your thoughts are important to me, whether they be criticism or appreciation. It is the fuel that I use to work! Also, woot to getting my first story over 10,000 words! Yay me!

Note: As I've seen, some people don't agree with my portrayal of Bellatrix. What we have to keep in mind is that she has some of the same character flaws that Sirius had, which, as it happened, led both to their deaths. Both were too cocky, too sure that they wouldn't die. In fact, for Bellatrix that flaw would be exasperated by her insanity, caused by both her time in Azkaban (without the assumed buffering effects of an animagus form and knowing she was guilty) and the unfortunate inbreeding in her line.

Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Harry Potter and make no money off of any of this. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

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><p><strong>On the Wrong Side of Sanity<strong>

**Chapter 4: Carry Me Away**

_Government is not reason; it is not eloquent;_

_it is force. _

_Like fire, it is a dangerous servant and a fearful master.  
>-<em>_George Washington_

Dumbledore was absolutely correct when he visited me. The trial was held only two days after I was taken to the holding cells. Two days that seemed to pass so slowly, and yet all too fast. It seemed impossible that the ministry could have gotten everything ready for the trial in that amount of time. It almost seemed rushed, although I was both looking forward to getting out of the little white cell, but terrified to face a trial yet again. Dumbledore had not been able to visit me again after the first time, and that had done nothing for calming my frazzled nerves.

When I was escorted to the courtroom, I blanched. It was courtroom 10; the one with the shackles. The one I had been in before.

The noise from the room could be heard from the hallway outside, but that quickly changed when news spread that I was entering the room. The noise level dropped nearly instantly, an effect that made it seem as if I had been plunged into water, where the only thing I could hear was my own fluttering heartbeat. The silence didn't last long, though.

"Mr. Potter! What do you have to say about your treatment at the hands of the ministry?"

"Do you have anything to say about the incident near Ottery St. Catchpole?"

"What are your feelings at being tried in front of nearly the entire Wizengamot?"

Question after question was shot my way, until it felt as if my head was spinning and I was surrounded by the calls of people I had never met before. Every now and then I could hear the Auror guards yell at some reporters who were trying to get too close in order to get photos with me and demand answers to their questions. At least twice, I thought I heard a friendly voice calling my name. I desperately looked around, but couldn't find them through the throng of people writhing and twisting around me. A loud, shocking noise came from the head of the room where the minister sat, which effectively dispersed the onslaught of questions.

"Everyone, please take your seats. Questions will be allowed after the trial. Please hold all your questions until then," Minister Scrimgeour spoke above the continued mumblings from the reporters.

I was seated in the one chair in the middle of the room. I nearly jumped when the shackles moved in order to fasten around my wrists and ankles.

"Minister, is that truly necessary?" A familiar voice called from the observers' section. All the mumbling from the reporters quickly subsided as everyone turned to watch the two powerful men speak. I turned my head in that direction, and felt my face turn white yet again.

Why was the headmaster not sitting with the rest of the Wizengamot?

My heart sped up in fear. The one I was counting on, the one that I had always counted on could not help me here. He wouldn't be able to vote, only watch. The silent wish to start crying assaulted me again, the third time in as many days.

"This is a murder trial, Headmaster Dumbledore. A murder trial in which we have evidence of the use of an unforgivable. It is the law that any potentially dangerous criminal in this building be restrained," the minister replied.

"Be that as it may, you are well aware that we have no such dangerous criminal here," Dumbledore tried again. "This is a schoolboy, not a Death Eater. You should be well aware of that, minister." However, Dumbledore's effort was in vain.

"This is a murder trial, as I have said. Any murder trial involves a potential dangerous criminal. That is all I have to say on the matter. Now let us continue, or I shall need to have you escorted out," Scrimgeour replied firmly. It was sad that, not too long ago, the minister had been trying to gain my favor in order to get more support from the magical community. I couldn't imagine what had made him switch tactics so suddenly. Behind the minister, I could just see the rather smug face of his advisor, Cornelius Fudge.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot sat down stoically without providing any more protest.

With the small clash between the two most politically powerful wizards apparently finished, the attention of the entire room once more turned to me. A deep breath did nothing to calm me. I watched as Minister Scrimgeour once more turned to address the entire room.

"Let us begin. This is the trial against Mr. Harry Potter for the murder of Mrs. Bellatrix Lestrange and the use of an Unforgivable Curse on the 27th of December," began Scrimgeour. "As minister, I will be presiding over the trial. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore will be unable to join the Wizengamot for the duration of this trial due to a widespread concern over his close personal relationship to the accused. Please be seated." The noise from the quill of the court scribe seemed deafening in the silence that followed.

As the trial finally began in earnest, I couldn't help but tune out the official-sounding jargon and instead let my eyes wander over the observers' section. None of this felt real to me. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were both sitting next to the Headmaster. I could also see Remus, whose sharp, amber eyes were staring intently at the speakers. Every now and then his eyes would narrow dangerously. Tonks was also sitting with the observers, apparently not on duty today. She was the only one who tried to smile at me encouragingly. I found Ron and Hermione, who were most likely going to be used as witnesses to the events before Bellatrix found me. They both looked extremely tired. Their faces seemed nearly white, and they kept switching their attention between me and whoever was talking. I was finally brought back to the proceedings when I heard my name mentioned.

"-tter's two close friends; Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger. Please approach the front, Mr. Weasley."

Ron got up and almost unsteadily made his way toward the front of the room, and stood behind the witness box, fidgeting.

"Mr. Weasley, please explain what happened on the 27th of December," encouraged a wizard in a navy blue, professional-looking robe.

"Well… uh… me, Hermione, and Harry were going to the muggle village near the Burrow… my house, that is. We were gonna just look around, maybe buy some stuff, ya' know? And, um…well, after a while, Harry started looking upset or something. I dunno why. But he asked to go to some other store without us. We didn't want to split up or anything, but he said he'd be right quick about it. So me and Hermione went to a café to wait." Ron looked like he had no idea what else to say. I could see him wiping his hands on his robe a few times and glancing my way in worry.

"Okay, Mr. Weasley. Now, did you look for him later on, when he didn't return?" the wizard asked, encouraging Ron to continue.

"Well, yeah. I mean yes, we did. Hermione got impatient and wanted to check the shops for him. I figured he'd be fine, but went along anyway. I…well, we noticed a lot of people gathering in the woods, or something. Didn't know why, so we followed them. We saw Harry in the middle of it all, just sitting there. Kinda shocked, I think," finished Ron. He seemed sure that there was nothing else he could possibly add.

"Did Mr. Potter seem distracted before you left to go to the muggle village?"

"Not really, no. I know he wanted to get out of the Burrow. He'd been stuck inside for safety reasons, you know. This was the first time he'd been able to leave the Burrow to have fun. It was the first time in a long time for all of us," Ron responded, looking a little confused. I couldn't blame him though, I was as well. What were they waiting to hear?

The next question cleared things up for me quickly.

"Did you ever hear Mr. Potter speak ill of Mrs. Lestrange or wish ill of her?" Ron's eyes went wide at the question. All he did was stutter for a second. Someone else spoke up before he could recover.

"Now that is unfair! We all know that woman was a Death Eater!" Mrs. Weasley burst out. Others among the observers began mumbling amongst themselves.

"Quiet! This is an admissible question. Do not make me throw anyone out of the courtroom!" yelled the minister. Things quieted down quickly after the outburst, however the Order members that I could see, as well as my friends, were looking rather upset. "Now, Mr. Weasley, please answer the question." Ron's eyes went comically wide.

"Well…erm. He never said he wanted to hurt her, no," he replied, obviously caught off guard.

"Did he ever speak ill of her, Mr. Weasley?"

"Erm, we all did. Sir. I…we didn't exactly get along, y'know." Ron stumbled over his answer.

"That is all. You may take your seat," the wizard finally relented. I noticed once again the scribbling coming from the court scribe, who was recording every word as Ron, my best friend, accidentally gave people a reason to think, or maybe just imagine that I had planned a murder. My imagined public self was apparently a diabolical fiend.

It hit me then, as Ron quickly made his way back to his seat, obviously relieved that he wouldn't have to answer any more questions. This wasn't a fair trial to see if I had killed Bellatrix or not. It wasn't even to see if it had been on purpose or not. No, what they wanted was quite different. They wanted to find me guilty. I wanted to scream at them; to rage and cry and yell about the unfairness of it all. Why? Why did they do this to me?

"Miss Hermione Granger, please step forward." Hermione's eyes were narrowed at the wizard in navy blue robes. It looked like she also understood what was happening. She understood, and was not happy about it. But what could she do? What could any of us do? Not even Dumbledore could help me this time. He had sat down without further protest against Scrimgeour.

"Miss Granger," began the wizard, "please explain what happened on the 27th after leaving the Weasleys' home."

As Hermione went on to explain that day, just like Ron had, I simply sat back and stared through everyone. Why did the Wizengamot, or the Minister, or whoever it was want me to be in Azkaban? I had no illusions that it wasn't where they would try to send me. Especially with the way that the questions were being asked, and how no one was able to talk to me after the Headmaster left my little white cell. Did they even find someone to defend me? Shouldn't someone be telling them that this is ridiculous?

"-said that he wanted to go pick up a few things from some other shops. I said we would go with him, but he didn't want us to. It was obvious that he wanted to buy something for us, even though Christmas was over. Maybe something for New Years. I wasn't going to let him go alone, but I felt bad. He hadn't had any time to himself at all over Christmas break, especially not with everyone home for the holiday. I figured he would be fine for an hour or so," finished Hermione, her eyes still narrowed at the wizard in front of her.

"No further questions. You may sit back down."

I was surprised that they didn't ask her the same questions that they had asked Ron. I had been counting on her to be able to spin the story so it didn't look like I had been planning to kill Lestrange the entire time. Was that why they didn't question her further?

Hermione sat back down hesitantly, most likely having had the same thoughts I had. Ron looked at her in confusion when she sat down, but then she leaned over to whisper in his ear. His responding whisper was almost too loud, but he quickly shut up when some people around his glanced over at the noise. I watched the both of them with sadness welling up inside. What if I couldn't get out of this? What if I was locked away, never to see my best friends again?

It was an awful thought.

"Mr. Tilswith Quillswin is the responding Auror who was first on the scene. Please come forward," said the minister, ignoring the whispering of Hermione and Ron.

The man that I could hardly remember talking to on that horrible day walked up to the front of the room. He had short, brown hair and a noticeable scar near his left eye. He looked like a kind man, one who always had a nice smile ready for a friend. The man stood at the witness box stiffly. I had to wonder if he knew what was going on here and whether he cared or not.

"Mr. Quillswin, what brought you to the clearing not too far from the muggle village near Ottery St. Catchpole?" the man in navy blue asked.

"We received a floo-call saying that there was something going on in the muggle village nearby. The caller was sure that it was some big fight which was taking place and demanded that a group of Aurors be sent. I was the first one sent out to investigate the problem, although the rest of the responding Aurors were right behind me," the Auror responded. The next question quickly followed.

"What was the scene when you arrived?"

Mr. Quillswin took a second before answering, either trying to remember the details or calm his nerves, I couldn't tell. "There were no loud noises or lights indicating a fight, as we had been expecting. The boy; Mr. Potter, that is, he was sitting in the middle of the woods. Just sitting there and staring. He seemed to be in shock since he didn't immediately respond to my presence or my words. His face looked a bloody mess, but Mr. Potter took no notice of it. It took me a second to notice the body of Mrs. Lestrange across from him, only a few meters away. It was immediately obvious that she was dead."

"What was determined to be the cause of death?" prodded the wizard directing the questions.

"While there was some blood around her from a wound on her neck, it was not large enough to have caused her death. It was decided that she had died from the Killing Curse."

The wizard nodded and then asked one more question. One last, devastating question.

"What was the evidence gathered from Mr. Potter's wand?"

The Auror, kind-looking Mr. Quillswin, looked down before answering. "It showed the use of the Killing Curse, sir."

.

.

.

The noise in the courtroom flowed over me as I sat there, chained to that hated chair in the middle of that hated room. I was lost in the noise. I looked for Dumbledore, and found him looking back at me sadly, looking older than he ever had before. The noise around me became unimportant, the movement of the people sitting around him equally so. His sad eyes pierced me.

Was he disappointed in me?

* * *

><p><em>Please, it's not my fault! I didn't mean this! This isn't what I wanted!<em>

_Please don't look at me with those sad, miserable eyes! PLEASE!_

* * *

><p>"<strong>Silence!<strong>"

The yell shocked everyone, including me, into paying attention to the minister. Even the scribbling that had almost become a part of the sounds of the courtroom had stopped, causing me to glance towards the appalled face of the scribe.

"That is enough! You may resume your conversations when this trial is over. Until that time, I ask you to contain yourselves. Now we will call Mr. Potter to the stand." The minister then finally turned to address me. "Mr. Potter, if you please?"

The shackles around me finally released their grip, and for a moment, I felt free. I could run. I could escape. I could get away from all this and never come back. Reality didn't take long to force its way back into my head. There was no getting away from this. As if to emphasize this, a new set of shackles was forced on me to allow me to approach the stand. I walked slowly, feeling once more as if this should all be a dream. Wands from several different guards followed my progress. As I stood up there in front of everyone, defenseless and unsure of what I could possibly say to make this all go away, the questions started.

"Mr. Potter. Why were you in the woods near Ottery St. Catchpole?" the wizard in the blue robes asked.

"It was just to have some time to myself. I had planned to go to a shop or two to pick some things up for New Years, but I wanted to get away from people for a bit, first. I love the Weasley home, but there are always so many people around all the time. The woods were calm. I just needed a minute to myself." It was the best response that I could come up with, even having first recited it in my head while trying to imagine what I would be asked.

"What did you do when you saw Mrs. Lestrange?"

"Well, sh-she came up with her wand pointed at me. She started yelling things. I knew she was dangerous, so I fought back."

"You fought back? You are saying that she was the first one to cast?" The professional-looking wizard raised an eyebrow at me.

I froze. "Well, no. I started; it was a…a body-bind, I think. I knew she was dangerous. She wanted to kill me."

"And you didn't think to run, Mr. Potter?" the man pointed out.

"I…well, I thought…" my weak defense was just getting weaker. How could I respond? The man moved on to the next question, not even giving me the time to gather my thoughts.

"Why the Killing Curse, Mr. Potter?" This question devastated me. I froze. I couldn't even think. How could I answer? Whispering in the observers' section rose once again, but the Minister had all of his attention focused on me, seemingly to the exclusion of all else.

"I-I…" I looked out to the rest of the courtroom. Mrs. Weasley seemed like she was going to break into sobs at any moment. Dumbledore was tensely staring, sometimes at me, sometimes at Scrimgeour. Ron and Hermione's eyes were wide in fear. How could I answer?

"I…I thought I was g-going to die." My voice was small when I finally answered, but there was nothing I could do about it.

"You thought you were going to die, and you did not run, but killed. I think I'm finished with the questions, Minister," said the man who I was now sure I hated. Hated, and feared. His parting words struck me like a blow.

"Mr. Potter, you may be seated. Now, the Wizengamot will break in order to come to a verdict," stated Scrimgeour. With that, the Wizengamot members stood and filed out through a small, unadorned door in the corner of the room in front of me. They left silently, but whispers broke out among the observers as soon as the large group of regal-looking witches and wizards left the courtroom.

They were going to decide my fate now. They were going to decide my fate, and I couldn't do anything.

Fifteen minutes turned into thirty, and then forty-five before the door opened once more to allow the Wizengamot members back into the courtroom. My heart felt like it stopped when the door opened. I couldn't even concentrate enough to wonder if it was a good or bad thing that it took less than an hour. All I could do was wait. Wait for a sentence that may or may not ruin me.

As the wizengamot seated themselves, silence swept over the room again as people waited for the conclusion of the trial. When everyone was seated, the minister turned to address one member that seemed to be taking the place of Dumbledore as the Chief Warlock for this trial.

"Has a decision been made?"

"It has," responded the Wizengamot member. He then turned to the rest of the room and declared the verdict. "Harry Potter has been found guilty of murder and the use of an unforgivable curse!"

All around me, people were talking quickly, some even yelling. I could hear Mrs. Weasley sobbing as well as Ron yelling about the unfairness of the trial. The Wizengamot looked on stoically, although a few seemed less than satisfied with the verdict. Soon, guards were coming over to unclasp the shackles of the chair, only to place a smaller set around my wrists once again. My gaze remained on the podium as I was led from the courtroom amid flashes of cameras and shouted questions. Most of it was incomprehensible to me. I realized as I walked that I had never even learned the name of the man that had questioned me and everyone else, that had led Ron to stumble so badly on his responses. That had led _me_ to nearly crack while trying to answer the man's harsh questions. But a second later, it didn't matter. It was only my mind trying to escape the realization that I was going somewhere I would never survive.

I couldn't possibly survive.

.

.

.

There it is, folks. Holy crap! One long trial of a chapter, right?

Now, while you twiddle your thumbs waiting for more, you can post some reviews! I'm honestly not picky about what they say. What did you like, what didn't you like? **I will try to respond to your thoughts (if you leave a signed review)**. If enough people mention the same thing, I will respond in the author note of the next chapter.

It's all about improving the story-telling! Come on, peeps! Review!


	6. Small Comfort

I assure you all that Reviews will encourage me to write more, and write more often. That said, I honestly don't care whether what you have to say is good or bad. Reviews can help either way.

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, never will. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

**On the Wrong Side of Sanity**

**Chapter 5: Small Comfort**

_Take this kiss upon the brow!  
>And, in parting from you now,<br>Thus much let me avow-  
>You are not wrong, who deem<br>That my days have been a dream;  
>Yet if hope has flown away<br>In a night, or in a day,  
>In a vision, or in none,<br>Is it therefore the less gone?  
>All that we see or seem<br>Is but a dream within a dream._

_-Edgar Allan Poe, A Dream Within a Dream_

People were everywhere. Behind me were those powerful witches and wizards that had sentenced me to hell. In front of me were reporters scribbling over their pads of paper and photographers brandishing their cameras, flashing again and again and again until I felt blinded. The calls of reporters all around me, asking as many questions as they could come up with at the moment, was deafening. Each reporter was trying their best to be heard over the others until they were almost screaming their questions. Every single question hurt. Each time they mentioned the trial, it was as if sharps claws were shredding my soul, tearing every last bit of comfort away from me and forcing me to remember that terrible word over and over again.

"Guilty!"

I couldn't stop cringing, from both the lights and the pain that I felt in my chest.

* * *

><p>"<em>What was the evidence gathered from Mr. Potter's wand?"<em>

"_It showed the use of the Killing Curse, sir."_

* * *

><p>My heart pounded away in panic, a sharp, jarring staccato that was trying to break out of my chest. The sounds around me seemed to turn into a loud buzz, nothing was making any sense. The Aurors beside me did nearly nothing to stop the insanity that raged around me, simply marching me to whatever place it was that would transport me to Azkaban. They were marching me stoically to my death, I was sure. I only finally saw an Auror react as one brave reporter tried to grab me in order to get my attention. He was quickly cast back out into the crowd without pause.<p>

The one failed attempt by the reporter didn't deter any of the others from trying to get a response from me. It was impossible, though. There was no way I could possibly talk to any of them. I had no energy to even try to open my mouth at this moment. Even without that, all of the shouted questions being thrown both at me and at the surrounded Aurors only meshed together into unintelligible noise. I almost wished to be back in the somewhat less hectic courtroom with that hated chair.

When we reached the room and the door closed behind us, the noise stopped so suddenly that it was obvious a silencing spell had been used on the area. I opened my mouth to say something, but what, I wasn't sure. Nothing came out, and no one bothered to glance in my direction anyway as matters were settled about my transportation. Finally one Auror turned to look at me. He was the one that had gotten rid of the persistent reporter earlier. There was a grim look in his brown eyes. I felt that he was a man that lived for his job, and nothing else. He pushed something into the hands of the Auror beside me. A heavy, terrifying weight settled on my shoulder, and with a word, my world was sent spinning.

When the world righted itself, I was struck by a chill breeze. The sound of water was the second thing to register in my mind, and I looked on with growing dread.

The icy water of what had to be the North Sea lapped at the sand not far from me. A small wooden boat that looked like it had seen better days sat half in the water unmoving despite the pull of the waves. Nothing else caught my attention, although I looked all around trying to find the hell that I was being brought to.

The Auror with me, one which had short brown hair speckled with grey and a face beginning to show wrinkles, waved his wand over the boat. With a softly spoken spell that I didn't catch, the boat hovered just off the ground. I was rather roughly hustled onto the boat and forced to sit down, after which the Auror with me stepped in. A tap of his wand sent us off into the briny water. The trip was nearly silent. The boat made no noise as we skimmed the water, and there were no animals around that I could see. It was creepy in its stillness. Sitting in the boat, I was no longer able to keep in a daze. Before, I had simply been on autopilot. All I had to do was walk in the direction I was pushed, trying to ignore the noise all around me. Now, with absolutely nothing to do and no noises to use as distraction, I began to shake in fear. Every minute, every _second_, I was getting closer and closer to the one place I thought I would never have to experience.

Who would have thought the Boy-Who-Live, Chosen one of the wizarding world, Golden Boy of Gryffindor, would find himself facing Azkaban. I shouldn't be surprised, though. People changed their opinion of me on the drop of a hat. One second loved and the next feared; my life was one hell of a roller coaster. I probably should have seen this coming, but how could I? Denouncing me in the papers was one thing, but this was a completely new level. The worst part was, in some way I deserved this. I _had_ killed the witch; I had earned my spot here. My shaking got worse as time passed in that small boat gliding over the water. As more minutes passed the air got even colder. I didn't even try to delude myself into believing it was the weather. It seemed that the effects of the Dementors couldn't be contained even by the many wards surrounding Azkaban. A tear finally escaped and slid wetly down my cheek, leaving behind a cold track of skin as it passed. I didn't know how close we were, but I couldn't yet see the prison and already I was close to breaking.

After half an hour more of allowing my mind to wander all over the place and staring out into the water, I felt magic tingle over me. It was unpleasant, oppressive even, nothing like the warm wash of comfort that came from Hogwarts. I nearly jumped in fright as the looming tower of Azkaban simply appeared out of thin air in front of me. My mouth went dry and my heart picked up speed once more.

The building was large, much larger than I had expected. The only reason I had any idea of what to expect to begin with was due to the newspapers in third year reporting Sirius' escape. I looked up at the building looming over me, and had to crane my neck to do so. It looked like a cold, forbidding place, which rightly presented it, I guess. The sides were dark, and in some places slightly worn away by weather. I could see a lot of tiny holes in the side, all situated evenly spaced from one another. Likely windows, I guessed.

I didn't want to be here. I _shouldn't_ be here.

As the boat reached the rocky ground of the shore, the Auror behind me stood and stepped off the boat.

"Stand slowly."

Quite direct and to the point. I had to wonder if he had been told to avoid talking to me or if was just how he was. I did as instructed, and couldn't help but shiver as the cold wind blew off the North Sea. The walk to the entrance was not far, and we walked in silence that was only broken by the wind in my ears. My arms ached from being chained behind me for so long. They chained me up as if I was likely to go on a killing spree. As we got closer to the entrance of the horrible prison, I slowed down. I could already hear the faint screams of prisoners inside. I nearly forgot myself until I was prodded by the Auror to keep moving. When we passed the dark, heavy doors of the prison, I realized that I wasn't hearing the prisoners. I wasn't hearing anything at all. It was all in my head.

Why was I here? I had only defended myself.

Every awful dream I had ever had, any time my friends had been seriously hurt, every second that I had been held under the Cruciatus. It was all there, playing faintly in my memory just for my enjoyment. I wasn't even in the main part of the prison and the evil, terrifying powers of the Dementors were affecting me. I sniffed, and half-heartedly convinced myself it was the cold weather.

When we got inside, it was a little warmer, though most likely only because the wind could no longer reach us. I was escorted to a small office, which was well-lit and cozy, with a desk taking up a good portion of the room. The man sitting behind the desk was older, hair neatly combed and small mustache trimmed. He looked up as we entered the room, then immediately handed over some paperwork and stood up to go through a drawer.

"This him?" he asked, making a bit of noise as he searched through the drawer.

"Harry Potter, yes. You have the robes ready?" the Auror behind me replied.

"Yes, yes, in a second. Anything on him that we need to hold?"

"Nothing. Underclothes and glasses will stay with him."

I felt odd standing there beside the Auror and being talked about as if I wasn't. It was unreal. It wasn't fair to me, it wasn't right. I didn't bother to open my mouth to protest, though. At this point, did it matter?

"Here we go," said the man while turning away from the drawer with a plain black robe in his hands. "One quick switching spell and we'll be ready. You finished with the paperwork already?"

"Five minutes ago" was his terse reply. It was the closest thing to emotion that I had heard from him so far.

"Alright then. I have some men waiting nearby to escort. Let me go ahead with that switching charm and I'll let you get on with it." The switching spell left me wearing the robe he had been holding. It was slightly too large and a little itchy. I couldn't even scratch at the annoying cloth with my hands bound behind me.

Once that was finished I was escorted out of the tiny office with the Auror's hand heavy on my shoulder. The other man, who I assumed was like the warden of Azkaban, exited with us and strode to another nearby door. He popped his head inside and called some names that I didn't quite catch. Two men quickly came out after the warden left and then we were on our way down the dark hallways of Azkaban.

Walking down those dark, echoing hallways surrounded by grim-faced guards was as nerve-wracking as the wait for the Wizengamot's decision. To be honest, it was worse because there wasn't any hope of this all going away anymore. I was here, and couldn't be sure if I would get out any time soon. Some of the cells we passed were empty. The ones that contained prisoners were hard to look at. Their rumpled, dirty forms were a clue towards what I might look like soon. I was nearly paralyzed by the moans and the child-like crying of some of the prisoners. The Aurors behind me nearly tripped over me, and I was forced to walk again with some rough prodding. None of this was right; I shouldn't be here at all, but I kept walking. Others prisoners that we passed were laughing hysterically, pointing at us when we got close enough. Those were the worst. It took a long time, but eventually the group around me slowed and came to a stop.

The cell I was brought to was dark, like the rest of Azkaban. The bars screeched as they were opened, and I winced at the sound. It went right through me, like the screech of an angry bird. It was the screech of madness; the noises of the other prisoners nearby rose in reply. I was pushed towards the cell as soon as the bars were open far enough. I resisted, though.

"No!" I was standing in front of the cell, shaking my head repeatedly. "No! This isn't…I shouldn't – this isn't _right_!"

I heard some uncomfortable noises made by the people around me, but I was still pushed into the cell. None of them said a thing. The Aurors did not close and lock them behind me as I had expected them to. Instead, one followed me in and released the binds from my wrists. Apparently everyone figured that taking away wands and having Dementors as guards was enough to keep criminals trapped. They were likely right, for the most part. Not many magicals could focus enough of their magic in order to save themselves without a wand, even if they did have an animagus form.

The Auror left the cell after freeing my wrists. The clang of the bars as they shut sent shivers through me. These men were followers, not the kind to question orders and always doing things exactly as specified. They didn't care that someone not even out of school yet was being held in the absolute worst prison in existence. It certainly didn't matter to them that I was the famous Boy-Who-Lived, Chosen One, and all that rubbish. It probably actually turned them off of me even more.

"She was a Death Eater, dammit." It came out as only a whisper, the bit of strength from the adrenaline that had been released in me when I saw my cell now failing to keep me from feeling despair.

I turned after hearing footsteps walking away and was surprised to see one Auror, or maybe he was just called a guard, still standing outside of my cell, simply studying me. He was a younger man, probably still in his twenties. His face was a little scruffy from at least a few days without shaving. His eyes were dark and somewhat difficult to see in the dim hallway under his sandy hair. He reached into a pocket of his robes and I tensed. People weren't happy with me right now. Who knows what others would try to get away with in regards to me. I was thus surprised when a piece of chocolate was thrust through the bars of my cell. I took it automatically, still staring at the man in surprise.

After the man had turned and briskly began to walk away, I thought that maybe I should have thanked him. As sad as it was, that was the nicest thing that someone had done for me for a few days. I looked down at the chocolate in my hand and decided to stuff it in a pocket that my prison-issued robes had, glad that the sweet was wrapped up.

When I looked back up, the man was making his way quickly down the hall back towards the entrance, likely returning to the guards' rooms. As the man left, no matter how little I knew him, I felt like I was being deserted. The only truly sane human contact I had here was briskly walking towards freedom, and I was trapped here with the soft cries of other prisoners. My hands were fisted in my robes in fear. I refused to acknowledge their shaking as I lost sight of the guard.

Now that I was alone, I took a closer look at my cell. In the corner on one side was my…bed. It was a little ratty looking thing. I'm sure that at one time, the sheets on it were white, but years had yellowed the cloth until it looked like something that had been dragged through the dirt. When I sat down on the bed, it didn't give much and it squeaked in protest. The blanket wasn't much to look at either. It was also an ugly yellow color, with a bit of wear along the edges. A bit of dull light shone on the floor near to where I was sitting. The air that flowed in from the tiny window was chill and had a fishy smell to it. I couldn't see anything but a small bit of sky from the window, which was quite depressing. I wanted to be able to go flying again, or even just sit around and joke with my friends on the field outside the burrow. I missed them, and I hadn't even been here that long. A scraping sound across the floor near to my cell pulled me from my inner sorrows.

"H-Hello?"

My voice sounded weak and fearful, but that reflected my feelings quite accurately, although I wanted to deny it. It was creepy in that cell with only the dim light from my tiny little window. The only sound that greeted my inquiry was broken mumbling. It made me shiver. Would that be me in the future? Would I be like the broken bodies that I saw on the way to this little hell?

Would I lose my mind here?

Across from me, I could see the rumpled form of another prisoner. They were on the floor near the wall, nearly hidden by the shadows and completely still. Dark hair and the standard Azkaban robes helped them blend into the shadows even more.

Farther down the hall, I heard the noises from the prisoners increase. It echoed all through the long halls, getting louder and louder. Screams and cries got even louder, blending together in a cacophony of hair-raising noise that made me want to cover my ears, although even that couldn't block it all out. The cries just kept getting louder; closer. Soon, I was even able to make out some of what was being howled by the prisoners. I could not stop the shivers that made my entire body tremble.

"NO! ….NOOOO! I DON'T WANT TO SEE IT! MAKE IT STOP. MAKE IT _STOOOOP_!"

"OH GOD HE'S HERE! NononononoNO! He won't….HE WON'T! **HOW COULD HE**?"

"Badbadbad, nonono…bad woman. Dead woman! _DiediedieDIE_**DIE**!"

Screams soon broke out, although some of them were different than the rest. They came from inside me, mixing with the yells and pleading of the prisoners around me, making it difficult to tell reality from the memories that were dragged to the forefront of my mind. My sight started to dim, and I realized just how cold I was; unbearably cold and shaking. It wasn't until I put my hands to my face in order to warm them that I realized that I was crying.

The Dementors were coming.

_How_ had Sirius _survived_ this place? How could _I_?

My knees buckled, failing as I tried to take a step towards the bed that I had left in order to inspect the other cells nearby. Weakness stole through all of my limbs, until all I could do was lie there as my vision narrowed down to a circle.

I wished my friends to get me out of here once more and then I was gone, dragged down and down and down into horrors that I wanted to forget.

_I was __**gone**__._

* * *

><p>Here we are: another chapter. I know it came out slower than the previous, but that's because for some reason, every time I got close I was never happy enough with it. As always, please submit your thoughts, feelings and etcetera.<p> 


	7. A Saving Grace

Here is the sixth chapter of On the Wrong Side of Sanity. I'm not sure how much interest this story is generating in readers out there, but at least it's fun to write.

**On the Wrong Side of Sanity**

**Chapter 6: A Saving Grace**

_Although men are accused of not knowing their own weakness, yet perhaps few know their own strength._

_It is in men as in soils, where sometimes there is a vein of gold which the owner knows not of._

_-Jonathan Swift_

I woke up with a gasp. I was not lying in the bed, so I knew that I was not waking up from sleep. My hands trembled, and my stomach twisted in complaint. I dragged my uncooperative body to lean against the cot dirty cot, trying to get my mind to remember everything against the horrible images that still lingered in my mind.

I was in Azkaban. How long had I been here? What day was it?

A glance to the window only told me that it wasn't night yet as the window showed some light shining in through the grey clouds. With a bit more time to get my thoughts together, I started to remember bits and pieces, as I had hoped would happen. I pushed myself up and onto the bed in order to get a look at the wall beside it. Fifteen scratches on the wall from a small rock that had chipped off the wall told me what I wanted to know. I had been in Azkaban for little over a week.

But what if I had missed some days? Did I mark the wall this morning when I woke up?

I grabbed the stone and held it to the wall, still debating. After a second or two, I put the rock back down without scratching the wall. I probably had marked it earlier today. Maybe.

Near the door to the cell sat my meal, a tasteless soup that was probably made to fit the caloric requirements of a body perfectly, without a thought to its taste. I walked over to the bowl and began eating the soup against the will of my stomach. It was hard to keep an appetite with the Dementors around, although for now, they were not roaming the halls. I didn't know how much time I had before they came back though. I couldn't tell how long I had been out of it since their last visit.

As I finished my meal, the other prisoners began getting louder, some dragging themselves to their bowl of awful soup. From the very beginning I noticed how I recovered from the presence of the Dementors faster than those around me. I was overall healthier, though; quite different from those who, after all their time here, could not even remember their own name. I probably would start to get slower too, with time.

I put the bowl back on the floor as I finished, and it disappeared without a sound. Even the prison had House Elves to keep things working well. I had no idea what magic kept the simple toilet, which was really only a small hole in the corner of the cell, mostly clean. I hadn't even noticed the thing when I had first arrived, but the call of nature was a good motivator to look the small space over with more attention.

I laid down on the uncomfortable bed and just stared at the ceiling. I wondered about what my friends were doing now.

Where they trying to get me out of here? I could just imagine Hermione searching through book after book on wizarding law while Ron sat by her trying to understand her constant babble about what she should look up next. It brought a smile to my face, which felt absolutely wonderful after the horrors of my mind. Sounds picked up again down the hall, and my heart sped up.

* * *

><p>"<em>Not Harry!"<em>

* * *

><p>'<em>Oh please, not again so soon<em>.' I needed more time to pull myself together. This was too soon. Much too soon. I hadn't had nearly enough time to calm down yet. I was still sluggish from the previous round. '_Please, let them pass this hall_.'

* * *

><p>"<em>Take me instead! Take me and leave him be!"<em>

_._

"_Kill the spare."_

_._

"_Flesh of the servant, willingly given…"_

* * *

><p>I turned over and pushed my head into the ratty pillow, seeking any comfort I could from it. The voices from my past pushed and pulled, warring for dominance over each other. The screams and moans from the other inmates faded. The noises of reality could not compete with those in my mind.<p>

I opened my eyes and turned my head to the side, looking for what, I did not know. The cell seemed even darker now, and thicker darkness crept around the border of my sight. Soon I was pulled under once again, a prisoner in my mind.

* * *

><p><em>I saw Ginny lying on the ground, cold and very still. Was she dead? Was I too late to save her?<em>

A blink later

_A gigantic basilisk was lunging toward me. I held up the sword in my hand, heart pounding so hard I thought it would burst. Pain blossomed in my arm, so agonizing that all I could do was drop the sword and fall to the ground. My worst enemy slowly walked over as my vision blurred._

Blink

_I was standing in the graveyard just staring at the body of my Tri-Wizard Tournament 'rival', Cedric, unable to do or say anything. I could still hear the haunting words ringing in my ears._

"_Kill the spare."_

Blink

_I was tied to the headstone once more. Wormtail was walking towards me with a knife, his stump of an arm still bleeding everywhere, wrapped as it was in a robe but dripping grotesquely on the ground at his feet in fat droplets. The ropes that bound me had no give to them, and I couldn't fight as my arm was sliced open to collect blood._

Blink

_A red jet of light hit Sirius as he was laughing. He barely had enough time to register what had happened before he was falling through the veil. His face was set in surprise as he glanced my way before disappearing forever._

Blink

_The worst pain I could have ever imagined. I could not ignore it. I could not escape it. It was everywhere and everything. The voice that was coming through my mouth was not my own but I couldn't focus on that; only the overwhelming pain._

"_Kill me."_

* * *

><p>I woke up, shaking like crazy. I was on my bed, but I couldn't remember going to sleep. My pillow was wet with tears, and my eyes stung horribly. I spent maybe five minutes recovering before everything began flooding back to me. I almost felt like crying some more, but I was simply too exhausted. I stayed on the bed longer, wishing for the coldness to go away.<p>

Eventually, I felt well enough to sit up; checking the wall again just to make sure that my memory was working. There were still fifteen marks on the wall, and dim light still shone through my little window. The other prisoners must have still been out of it, because the only sound I could hear besides the quiet cries in my head was the light whistling of wind against the prison. If I tried real hard, I could also barely make out the sound of water.

No bowl of swill was sitting near the bars this time, so I couldn't have been out too long. I was too exhausted to do much of anything, so I simply tried to relax and fell into a troubled, uncomfortable sleep.

It was a colder day than normal. There wasn't much wind outside, but the chill permeated everything. I spent what felt like the entire morning just staring at the ceiling above me. I studied every crack, every dark spot, every cobweb that shuddered in the slightest of breezes.

Everything seemed pointless to me at the moment. I almost wished that I could sleep the entire day away. There was nothing that I could do to amuse myself during the long hours that I was awake. I wasn't even sure that I would try to even if there _was_ something to do. I just wanted to immerse myself into the self-pity and resentment that I was feeling.

I was trapped here with the most awful creatures that affected me more than most anyone else. I was a savior, then a villain, then a savior, then a villain once more. I could never win in anything, it seemed. Not the important things, at least.

If only things would get better. Even if it was only some small sign that my time here would soon be coming to an end. Anything.

I woke with a suddenness that just about had my head spinning, the loud noise coming from outside pulling me into unwelcome consciousness. The entire façade of the prison had changed during the time that I had been asleep. Instead of projecting a quiet, menacing feeling, the whole building exuded something that was more likely to be found in a horror movie. Even without the immediate presence of the Dementors, Azkaban was a place of fear. The walls shook with the force of clashing winds and water. The wind sometimes reached a high, ear-splitting pitch as it rushed through the windows and hallways. The beating of rain against the outer walls could be heard clearly over everything. A flash of lightning tore violently through the sky, lighting my cell so brightly that I had to squint. I immediately felt the beginning of a headache throb behind my eyes. A sudden crash of thunder only served to make things worse.

I was not the only one awake to witness the fury of the storm raging outside. Several prisoners near me began crying, while some even screamed at every crash of thunder, as if they wanted to shout their fury as loud as the storm did. I turned in my ratty little bed and tried to muffle the noise by crushing the pillow over my ears. It wasn't nearly as effective as I had hoped. I laid there for what seemed like hours before things began to calm down and I was able to drift off once more.

The sleep that I slipped into was anything but comforting, and nowhere near peaceful. My Uncle stared at me in anger, his eyes bleeding into red. His hair fell out one clump at a time while he stalked toward me with his mustache quivering angrily. After he reached me and pulled me forward by the shirt with a rough jerk, the last of his hair had fallen to the floor. I watched in horror as his nose sloughed off of his face before turning to try to get away. I only tripped over his feet and sprawled on the floor. A yell from Dursley made me jump to my feet and take a step away. He was holding his wand up menacingly, so I raised mine in a hurry and tried to fire a spell at him. Nothing happened. My uncle smirked at me and then raised his wand, firing some red curse at me. I couldn't do anything as it hit me and I fell.

I woke abruptly once more as my face hit the ground. My head felt like it wanted to split open, so I stayed where I was while hoping that the pain would pass quickly. When I had finally gotten it under control, I pulled myself back to the bed to check the wall like I did every time after waking. The counting of the scratches took longer this time.

Thirty-two.

I looked at the window to try to see if it was day or night, something that had become as much of a ritual as checking the wall. No light came through, and I was disappointed. I noticed the usual bowl of awful food sitting on the floor only as a darker shape against the lighter color of the floor. I had to force myself up from the bed to go over to it. It was more difficult than usual, but it seemed that no matter how much I slept, I was just getting more and more exhausted.

When I reached the bowl, I nearly knocked it over when I took a step too close. A little of the slop spilled over the edges and on to my foot, but I paid it no mind, instead bending over to pick it up and bring it to my mouth. I had to swallow a few times before I thought I was ready to eat the stuff because my stomach seemed like it was constantly complaining about the awful food put into it. I ignored my distaste like I had every other time, and drank the cold soup. As soon as I dropped the bowl to the ground, it disappeared like usual.

I continued to stand near the entrance of the cell, trying to look down the hallways of the large prison. I eventually slumped to my knees out of exhaustion, but I still wasn't ready to go back to the cot. Here, at least, I could dream about how it felt to be on the other side of these bars.

My mind once again drew me to wonder about my friends. Would they get me out of here? Where they still working on helping me, or had they already forgotten me? It was harder to remember all the times that we had shared together. I couldn't imagine their voices or even their faces as I once could, and that truly bothered me.

A chill running down my spine made me abandon thoughts of my friends in order to listen closely to the sounds of the prison. Were the prisoners getting louder, or was that just the constant wails of my mind? The floor of the cell was cold, so I ignored the feeling.

Rubbing my hands over my arms did nothing to make me feel any warmer, but I had constantly felt cold since being imprisoned in this awful place. The cold and the screams inside my head were enough to make me feel as if I was going crazy. Mad. Insane. I wanted to wake up from this awful dream, but each time I had to realize that this was the awful reality.

A scream that was louder than the rest sounded from down the hallway, and my heart nearly beat its way out of my chest. They were coming. I wasn't ready. I was _never_ ready.

I grabbed the bars in an attempt to pull myself up off of the floor and over to the bed, but I couldn't. My arms refused to support my weight enough to get me to my feet. Soon, they simply fell to my side as my vision became slightly blurry due to the usual tears. I fell facing the cold metal bars, slowly sliding down until I settled on the floor. I was close enough to press my forehead against them, close enough to smell the sharp odor of the metal. From the other thumps that I heard, I wasn't the only one to lose strength at the creature's presence.

I looked out through the bars as the usual screams began to wreck my mind. Every time, every _single_ time, it was awful. It felt as if entire chunks of my mind were being ravaged and ripped away. My mind cowered from the physical and emotional pain. I just couldn't become used to the mental agony their dark powers inflicted. In fact, it felt like it was only getting worse each time, scraping away more and more of what made me, well, _me_. Knowing I was slowly, inescapably losing myself was an awful, terrible thing. It was knowledge that I did not want.

The cold of the floor added to the heinous cold that was invading my mind from the power of the Dementors. I was shivering again, and no amount of effort could stop it.

"No. No, please no."

I looked out of my cell towards the scratchy voice. She was across the hall, next to the cell immediately across from mine. Like me, she had also fallen near the bars of her cell, her dirty brown hair spilling out of the little room and into the hallway. Her eyes were sunken and she had dark smudges easily visible under them. Her skin was dirty from being on the floor. I kept starring at her even as my vision began to darken. Her head rocked side to side in denial against the oncoming horror. Suddenly the woman looked up with a snap of her head that almost looked painful. Our eyes met; my green ones with her soft brown ones. With a sharp movement, she might have bared her teeth at me, but I couldn't quite tell. I could not pull my eyes from hers. My vision narrowed further, until all I could see were her brown eyes. The screams that always seemed to be running through my mind quieted. For the first time since I had arrived, the screams from my past were gone. Silent.

The silence didn't last long.

* * *

><p>"<em>You worthless bitch! Don't turn away from me! Come here!"<em>

"_We're done, Cormick. If you weren't such an asshole, we'd have been fine. Just let me get my things and you can get back to your drinking."_

"_The hell we're done!"_

"_You get away from me you bastard! Stop! I said STOP!"_

The blackness in my head receded, and I got a picture of what was going on and what the voices connected to.

A young woman and a man were obviously fighting in a small living area. The woman was strong-looking; her eyes glared her hate and anger at the man before her. The man, on the other hand, was rather unkempt. He had a wobble in his step which bespoke of indulgence in alcohol. His face was a red hue, either from drinking too many spirits or his anger.

The two were struggling against each other near the door of the room. The man obviously had the advantage of bulk against the woman, especially in a physical fight. However, this advantage didn't last long.

"_R__umpere nasum_!" The woman's hair flared around her face as she spun out of the grip and brought up her wand.

The effect was immediate, and soon the drunken man was holding his nose and cursing. Instead of stopping him, the curse enraged him further and he took out his own wand.

"_Cado_. _Coquam sanguis_! _**Obturatio cor!**_" she screamed as she saw his wand. The man was able to avoid the first, but the next two spells hit him. With no shield to dampen the effects, he fell to the ground, unmoving.

The woman stood for a moment, simply staring at the body lying in front of her on the floor. Slowly shakes began, starting in her hands and then crawling up her arms until she was shaking everywhere. She fell to the floor with a sob, but continued staring at the body of the man she once knew with anger in her eyes.

"Never again." She pointed her wand at the body and set it aflame with tears still on her cheeks, but triumph in her eyes.

* * *

><p>I came back to myself with a lurch. It felt as if my head was spinning where I lie and I nearly vomited at the discomfort. I saw a black cloaked <em>thing<em> roaming the hall. It radiated everything that I could possibly relate to horror, and the screams in my mind returned with a vengeance. This time, they were screams that I was quite familiar with. I was pulled under by the thing's power still trying to figure out what had happened.

What had I just seen?

...

...

Okay now. We've gotten somewhere, and had at least a bit of fun. But seriously now, I'm looking for some kind of feedback feedback.

Is the story keeping your attention? Is it interesting? Share something.

**Don't just read and then write nothing!** It's good that people are reading the story, but rather discouraging when no one feels interested enough to type even a small review.


	8. Freedom of Thought

**Mrgigglegirl 14,** **Just Another Aceves **and** Mieszak**, I hereby dedicate this chapter to you! You are the reason I started working on this chapter sooner that I would have otherwise! Thank you for your reviews! (Hopefully this chapter is a little more exciting for you.)

Now, let's start this baby off with something _interesting_!

**On the Wrong Side of Sanity**

**Chapter 7: Freedom of Thought**

_By the dismal tarns and pools  
>Where dwell the Ghouls,-<br>By each spot the most unholy-  
>In each nook most melancholy-<br>There the traveller meets aghast  
>Sheeted Memories of the Past-<br>Shrouded forms that start and sigh  
>As they pass the wanderer by<em>

_-Edgar Allan Poe, Dreamland_

I slipped into a mind as soon as I felt the cold coming. It was a lot easier after so much time running away from my own head. I didn't even feel guilt about rooting through their heads anymore. That feeling had long passed when I decided that my health and sanity were more important than that sanctity of nameless peoples' minds. Hell, I was sure that the unwilling hosts didn't even notice me sharing a bit of head-space, especially with the vileness of the dark powers from the inhuman guards occupying them.

It was more than just escaping the mental effects of the Dementors, to be honest. I was actually able to _learn _from the minds that I invaded. Only that which I saw projected in their minds, which was a shame. Imagine if I could learn everything they knew! After I woke, I'd often practice wand movements with my hands, repeat the incantations aloud, or just repeat facts in my head over and over again while hoping to remember them later on. It wasn't as if I had much else to occupy my time in this little hellhole.

The memory that I intruded upon now was fuzzy, as if whoever I was with couldn't remember details well enough for the power of the Dementors to work as it should. I hadn't really encountered something like this before. It was strange. I could only compare it to what I imagined being on drugs or being drunk would feel like. Not pleasant at all, really. I couldn't make out most of what was happening, and the sound from the memory was distorted. Sometimes a scream would rip its way through the mesh of sound, before sliding back and becoming one with the rest of the indistinguishable noise. The memory became even fuzzier for a moment, making me feel dizzy, before returning to its previous slightly fuzzy condition.

This one must not be in good shape at all. I wasn't sure I wanted to stay, but I wanted to risk losing myself in my own memories even less.

The noise that surrounded me, which sounded more like the background noise that used to be common in large crowds, suddenly dimmed to a whisper and something began to form. It started as a darkening in one area of the blurry memory. Colors swirled and blended as if they were paint. Once straight lines now bent inwards towards the disturbance in a way that alarmed me.

What on _Earth_ was happening? I was full of nervous energy, waiting for something that I felt I didn't want to encounter.

The area of darkness sharpened with a snap and the rest of the memory dimmed. What looked like a dog stood with me in the other person's mind. It seemed huge; at least three or four times my size. It was certainly big enough to be a problem. Its _paws _were bigger than my hands, and its fur was a dark, eerie green color that had no place being on a wolfish creature. Its eyes were bright, nearly shining in the surrounding dimness – and what the _hell _was this thing doing in someone's mind? It paid me no mind from where it stood, staring at something in the distance. Its body stood, tensely waiting for something, though I had no _fucking_ clue what it was.

I wasn't sure what to do. Should I retreat? Should I wait? I studied it more, waiting for it to make a move. The beast glanced my way, and its ears went flat. Teeth poked out of its mouth as the creature's lips lifted in a snarl.

And then, rather suddenly, its ears perked up and it shifted in place. I glanced warily in the direction that it was staring somewhere to my right, too curious to keep my eyes on the intruder, no matter how nervous it made me. Another shape was forming, this time of a human. He was crumpled on the ground in dirty, ragged clothes that looked familiar. They were the very same type of robes that I had been forced to wear when I entered Azkaban. The man just lay there, shaking, but doing nothing else. His form seemed to swirl a bit at the edges, as if it was hard to keep together.

The beast moved, lifting its head until it was pointed straight up, the green fur of its chest puffing out. And then, the most awful, horrible sound emerged. The howl hit me as if it had a physical form. It tore through my ears, through my _head_ and left a weakness that terrified me. My body, although not physical right now, ached everywhere. I could feel the pain as if I were awake, and it _hurt_. The howl lasted for what seemed like forever. When the sound finally, _finally_ subsided, the beast that was nearly as big as a horse took one step forward. Another deep indrawn breath made me start.

I did not want to feel it a second time.

The second howl hit me just as before and left me defenseless. I had no time to escape and no time to cower before I was swept away in the terrible sound. My sight grew blurry, and the sound range through my being again. When this one ended, the wolf-like creature took another step, and then swished its tail. I stared uncomprehendingly at the seemingly braided tail before coming back to myself.

I was getting the hell out of here.

The third howl hit me while I was working to escape this mind, no matter the cost. It halted most of my efforts immediately, but I struggled against it. I was not sticking around for this. When the howl had just about died, I was pulling out of the man's mind. For whatever reason, I looked back towards the beast one last time. It was already atop the man's form, tearing and beginning to drag him away. I felt the mind dying around me, and it was terrifying. The beast looked up from its catch and seemed ready to put it down to chase me. Its hind legs bent, ready to make a dash in my direction and take me down too, but I was already pulling out and returning to myself with relief.

When I finally woke up, I was shaking much more than usual. He had died. I had been there with him as he had died. In his _goddamn_ _**mind**_ with him. It was not something that I had wanted to experience. Not ever.

I didn't even have time to come to terms with what had happened nor time to acknowledge the traces of blood left on my pillow when the screams rose in my head. The Dementors weren't quite done with their fun yet, and I was dragged forcefully back into my worst memories. Memories to which I had just made at least a few new entries. I shuddered as the echo of the howl raced through my head. My state of semi-consciousness didn't last, and I was finally tugged under.

…

I woke slowly, exhaustion seeping into every part of my being. A glance at the wall to the side of the bed was only out of habit. I didn't bother to count the many marks scratched into the wall, nor did I take the time to make another. I had given up on that some time ago. It didn't matter anyways. I stopped to begin with because it was impossible to know how long had passed each time I woke up. I had very likely made multiple marks when it was unnecessary or skipped other days altogether. It wasn't accurate enough to continue.

My exhaustion confused me. This was quite different than usual. It wasn't until I heard the whistle of the wind outside, something which approximated the sound of a distant howl, that I remembered what had happened. My mind replayed the event in appalling detail, although the memory of that sound couldn't possibly reach the level of horror of the real thing.

What had happened? Why was that _beast_ inside that man's mind?

I shuddered, and vowed to try to forget it. I would almost rather not find out. The bit of blood on my pillow mocked my efforts.

During the next few times that I had to contend with the Dementors, I spent time focusing on more than just the memories that I was viewing. Every time, there was something there, _just _out of reach. It was like I could still sense other people, even while in a mind that was not my own. They were there, but faintly. I felt obsessed with finding a way to slip from mind to mind, especially after once again coming across a mind that seemed on the verge of giving up.

That time, I pulled back well before I could come face to face with that unknown thing which dragged the previous man away. I wanted nothing to do with that.

The first time I succeeded in slipping seamlessly from one mind to another, I was almost forced out from inattention. The feeling of victory surged through me. It wasn't a happy victory, no. I felt a cold, furious victory against the creatures that tried so hard to spread fear and despair. I had _won._

Never again would I be unwillingly dragged away to face things I would rather forget. It would happen _no more_ because-

I...Had…Won!

…

I slipped into the nearest mind as soon as I felt the first chill come over me. This one was being affected by the evil power as well, so I flitted from mind to mind easily to find someone not yet immersed in their own horrors. I had developed my ability further after trying so many times to escape experiencing another mind death or a memory that happened to affect me more than usual. While the prisoners were, well, a _little _saner, I could actually slip deeper into their mind and learn things as I pleased. It was much more efficient than being caught in their semi-conscious fears and awful memories because I could manipulate the mind a bit more to show me what I wanted to see.

I had even discovered some branches of Magic that I had never known about before. I was even able to learn some of the basics of some of these branches. What better way to learn what not to do than watching from the sidelines as someone _literally _blew their head off? From these deeper and usually less emotion-ridden memories, I could pick up more information. It was a cure to the tedium that was a part of life locked away from the rest of society. What I was doing could almost be considered independent study, if classes at Hogwarts were more simple observation and information gathering rather than constant bookwork and if the classes were more…darkly oriented.

During my time in Hogwarts, I had certainly known of the existence of the Dark Arts, but I had never had any _idea_ of how many different branches of magic fell under that category. Necromancy was an obvious one, and something that I still wanted nothing to do with. Some others, such as Ritual Magic and what seemed to be a magic that dealt with Parceltongue, looked like they could really be of use to me. I had tried to absorb as much as I could of any memory that related to those. I had to get out of here eventually, and when I did, I would _not_ be taken lightly.

I'm sure the ministry would rue the day they decided that it was ok to treat me like a child or an adult depending on what suited them at the time.

I woke up from what could be called a trance and grinned. It was time for food, and I was _hungry_. I crawled out of the pathetic bed and over to the bowl that was just waiting for me. I finished eating in less time than it took to move over there. I was hungry, dammit. No need to worry about manners _here._ I laughed at that.

I dropped the bowl without a care and crawled back to the bed. The wall next to it was completely covered in scratches. There were too many to count, I didn't bother to try. Nor did I pick up the stone and make a new mark. I had given that up ages ago. There were no days or nights here. Only periods of light and periods without. It no longer mattered.

Screams woke me from my serious contemplation of the window and the wall surrounding it. I had no idea how long I had been staring, but that wasn't important.

They were coming again, and I grinned.

_Let them._

…

…

10 points to whoever notices how I messed up my chapters. (Not in a way that actually affects the story)!

50 points to the first person who correctly guesses what the beast at the beginning of the chapter is based on!

Finally done with the Third chapter of Azkaban! Third! How will Harry ever get out of this place?! I know this one isn't quite the length of previous chapters, but this is just the note that I wanted to end it on, so it will have to do. On to the next one!


	9. Relief and Repose

On to the eighth chapter! Now, as for the one question that I posed to you guys last chapter:

The idea of the beast that I described in the beginning of chapter 7 was based off of the Cù Sìth, which comes from Scottish Folklore. They are considered a harbinger of death, and would escort souls to the afterlife. Most interestingly (for me) is that sometimes, while hunting, the Cù Sìth would let out three howls that could be heard for miles. Whoever heard those howls would have to reach safety by the third howl or else be overcome with such terror that they died.

Anyways, thanks for providing some guesses **sousie, jeanpaulreddy93, **and** Kharneth666**! Don't be surprised to see more questions like this in the future!

**On the Wrong Side of Sanity**

**Chapter 8: Relief and Repose**

_Did you want to see me broken?  
>Bowed head and lowered eyes?<br>Shoulders falling down like teardrops.  
>Weakened by my soulful cries.<em>

_Does my haughtiness offend you?  
>Don't you take it awful hard<br>'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines  
>Diggin' in my own back yard.<em>

_You may shoot me with your words,  
>You may cut me with your eyes,<br>You may kill me with your hatefulness,  
>But still, like air, I'll rise.<br>-Maya Angelou, Still I Rise_

Something odd was going on, I was sure of that. The Dementors hadn't been freed to roam the halls for much longer than was usual. I wasn't sure what they were waiting for, but in all my time here, this had never happened before. With as little as was going on here on a daily basis, any break from normal was interesting to me, though I was too jaded to waste the energy to get up in hopes it meant a visitor or the like. I was currently in bed, just waiting to feel the chill before escaping into someone else's thoughts.

After all, a change from normal was not always a good thing.

Sound echoed from down the hall and so I began to sink into my mind before truly noticing that the sound was different from what it would normally be. Instead of the usual cries of despair and tortuous thoughts, there were the clicking of hard-sole shoes and murmurs of interest from some prisoners that were aware enough to notice. The clicking of the shoes echoed loudly; coming closer with each second.

I wasn't as curious about it as I might have been when I first arrived, so I didn't bother getting up to look out through the bars. Instead, I simply stayed where I was, staring at the ceiling above me with my hands behind my head. I refused to look over even when the clicks stopped nearly right outside of my cell.

I hoped I looked like a badass.

"Mr. Potter."

The only thing that moved was my face, where a smirk spread its way across. Or maybe it was just a stupid grin, I couldn't tell. It's not like I had been able to practice it in front of a mirror like some purebloods did, which I had found out about during my mental explorations.

I was truly enjoying messing with the guy…Auror…guard…or whatever he was. I was pretty sure that he didn't understand that, either. That, of course, just made it all the more fun.

"Um, Mr. Potter. Can you hear me?"

God, this guy must be right out of training; he sounded so unsure of himself.

A few more moments of staring at the ceiling in contemplation, and then I slowly sat up. The man that was standing outside of the cell was young, that was obvious. He was also easy to read. His face easily showed how relieved he was that he didn't have to enter the cell to make sure I was alive and coherent. His uniform also showed that he was, perhaps, not even through with his training yet. His robes were of the trainee white instead of the Auror red, if that was still the system that they used since poor Mrs. Heftwright was thrown into Azkaban. Or was it Miss Bauxely? I could never keep all of the names straight in my head. It didn't matter all that much anyway. Mrs. Heftwright was long dead, and little Miss Bauxely wasn't sane enough to care.

"Mr. Potter, er, Harry Potter. I'm here to serve as escort." It rather sounded like he was reading from a script. The trainee shifted where he stood, obviously waiting for some kind of response from me. Then I realized that I had been staring at him this entire time. No wonder, he likely thought I was completely mad. Perhaps I was, but who cared? I enjoyed his nervous ticks for a few moments longer before nodding my head to him. It was time to leave this awful place.

I honestly didn't even care where they were taking me now, just as long as it was _out_.

Simply seeing the bars to my dark cage open was…indescribable. Amazing. I felt a surge of gratefulness towards the young trainee who had been stuck with this job, although I knew that I shouldn't have. They were a part of the system that had locked me up for so long to begin with.

My gratefulness quickly subsided into simple satisfaction as soon as I stepped out of the cell. Freedom from that dull place felt…good. A lot of things, actually, but good was a decent enough way to sum it all up. The trainee Auror eyed me with apprehension, probably too used to hearing how to deal with Azkaban prisoners and now wondering if I was still sane. I shot him a too-large smile and he stepped back, tightening his grip on his wand.

Merlin, that was amusing.

I stared ahead as the two of us started down the hallway, only watching the trainee beside me out of the corner of my eye and ignoring the cries from the other prisoners entirely. Their feelings of longing and despair brushed across my mind, but I easily pushed it away.

We had walked a rather slow three minutes when the physical activity caught up with me. My breath came in short wheezes and my legs were positively shaking. I was _exhausted_. Two more minutes found me slowing my already sluggish pace, but I could not make myself care. As frustrated as I was, I knew the sitting around for so long had weakened me to a ridiculous degree. It was nothing that I could have prevented, although the degree to which I had weakened did somewhat surprise me.

A whispered and a feeling of magic flowing through me later, my pace quickened and my legs steadied. An energizing charm. Useful, but I would pay for it later, considering that I was now using energy that I didn't actually have. The trainee beside me either didn't know or didn't care.

I was betting on the latter.

My laugh made the trainee nearly jump out of his skin and whip his wand around to point at me. The rest of the walk to the boat was calm, with the exception of the twitchy man walking beside me.

This time, the ride on the rickety little boat was calm; peaceful, even. I could finally, after all this time, _see_ the water instead of only hear it. The cold wind chilled me even as it cheered me. The sky was grey, as it always seemed to be in this place, as if this prison could never be reached by the sun. I absently hummed a song that I had heard in someone's memories while we floated along. It felt as if I were on some vacation, just being _outside_ for once.

The trainee and I exchanged no words, although the man did continue to eye me with annoying frequency. He was nervous, and nothing I had done so far had given him reason to feel any calmer. That was ok. I didn't feel bad for him in the slightest.

Soon enough, the shore came into view. My head began to sag to my chest as the exhaustion began to creep into my body once more. Energizing charms weren't known for their lasting effects. By the time we actually reached the shore, I had to forcefully drag myself from the boat. The trainee Auror did nothing to help besides holding the boat still. Once I was on solid ground, I sat once more. My legs no longer wished to support me, and I felt as if I could go to sleep right where I sat. Once the trainee had settled the boat where it was supposed to be kept, he turned back to me and held out what I assumed to be a portkey.

"Take this," he said, his arm stretched out as far as it could go as if he was trying to avoid getting close to me. "This will take us to St. Mungos."

Getting back to my feet was a tiring affair. Finally, I grabbed on to the portkey and was whisked away. I did not stay conscious long enough to be greeted at our destination.

**...**

She was nervous, perhaps even scared. I could tell as soon as she entered the room with a potion or five in her hands. Her whitish-grey robes marked her as a mediwitch. She had a somewhat chubby but happy face that was most likely used to sharing smiles with nearly everyone she met. I wondered for a moment if everyone felt nervous around me and couldn't decide what I preferred. I had missed the reception that I had received when I first arrived since I had passed out. So far, from what I had seen, nervousness did seem to be the general consensus.

The nurse came closer and began instructing me to take each potion as she handed them to me. My eyes drooped as soon as I dutifully drank the potions she had brought.

Screw thinking; I was _tired_.

**...**

Voices roused me from my slumber, although they were hushed. I lay in the hospital bed and listened in to the conversation taking place.

"He does look pretty bad, doesn't he?" It wasn't really a question, though.

"He might not have been in there as long as Sirius was, but Azkaban is Azkaban. Any amount of time there is…terrible." This voice tripped just a little over Sirius' name. It was obvious to me who it was. Remus was still feeling the pain of losing his best friend. Again.

"How long do you think it will take for him to recover? Hermione told me that he didn't wake at all yesterday. Not even when they came to give him potions." I knew the voice, but I just couldn't place it yet.

"It's…well, it's impossible to tell. Dementors do a lot of damage. There hasn't even been a complete study of how they affect the health."

"It's just – Merlin, 'Mione told me how bad he looked when they first brought him here. I was on patrol and couldn't even see him 'till the next day." I knew who that was. It finally hit me. Ron. That was my best friend, sitting in the very same room with me. I took in a deep breath. I was finally back from Hell. My breath attracted attention.

"I think he might be waking up!" Remus exclaimed. The sound of chairs being pushed back and feet rushing over to the bed assaulted me.

"Harry! Come on! W-we're here! Wake up!" Ron seemed more emotional than I remembered. I wanted to open my eyes and finally _see_ him, but they wouldn't budge. Exhaustion pulled at me forcefully, and I unwillingly succumbed.

**...**

Light hit my eyelids and made me cringe in my semi-awareness. When I finally opened my eyes, I saw that it was the sunlight streaming in through the windows that had awoken me. The bed that I was on was incredibly soft, especially when compared to what I had grown used to. No other people where in my room with me, but there was a chair pulled up to the bed. I was somewhat disappointed not to wake up to the company of my friends, but perhaps also a little relieved. There was no way I wanted to face all of the people that would likely visit me all at once. I was tired enough as it was.

Soon enough, the door to my room open and in stepped an older mediwitch. They must have placed an alarm on my room in order to tell when I woke. The woman had short, deep brown hair that didn't offer a clue to her age. It was her lined face that told me she wasn't someone just out of school.

"How are you feeling?" She obviously wasn't here to chat.

"Good enough." My voice came out almost like a croak, and I winced. The mediwitch quickly brought me a glass of water to sip at. I took my time with the water and scanned the stranger's outer thoughts. Maybe it was immoral, but something like this could honestly save my life. It was too useful to ignore the talent, at the very least.

The woman was nervous around me, but just barely. She had dealt with her fair share of sick patients, and I was nothing too frightening. Most of the caution stemmed from the fact that I had just been released from that awful prison, so no one quite knew what to expect of my sanity.

"My friends?" I asked. My voice sounded a bit better after the water, but not that much better.

The mediwitch looked at me for a second before answering. I could have sworn that her eyes softened towards me.

"St. Mungos staff will alert them that you are awake once we've done a few more assessments," she replied. Meaning, they wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to go crazy and attack people first. They probably thought it was a legitimate concern. Hell, it probably _was_.

After a short, stilted conversation that was mostly made up of a question and answer session that I just barely paid attention to, the mediwitch left with promises to contact my friends. I couldn't imagine what they would be doing right now. Would they be in class? Wait. Did they even have classes still? How long had I been imprisoned? More than a month, I knew that much.

I looked out of the window in hopes that it would help me find the answer. Snow was piled up on the window sill outside while a steady wind blew more snow through the air. Was it still winter? It really felt like it had been longer than that. I had been locked up at the end of December. How could it still be winter?

Eventually, the silence of my room was broken again when the door opened and admitted a bushy-haired woman. She was taller than I remembered, and maybe a little more…womanly, but I could still easily recognize Hermione.

"Harry! Oh, it's just so good to see you! How are you feeling? I'm so sorry! We tried – really tried – to get you out of that place sooner. It's just, oh god Harry!"

A brief glance at her mind made me recoil quickly. It was done without much thought, and only proved how awful she felt, but I felt as if this wasn't something I should do to her. It looked like she was about to cry and it made me feel…happy yet awkward. Here was one of the friends that I had been missing for so long. Hermione hurried over to the bed in order to give me a hug and I accepted it a little less awkwardly than I would have a while ago. One thing bothered me, and I had to ask the question.

"How long?" Thankfully, my voice sounded much better than before.

Hermione looked at me for a minute, tears collecting in her eyes. A sniff later and she was ready to answer.

"Two years, Harry. Well, two years and a month, actually. It's February." Hermione looked uncomfortable for a minute before continuing. "Ron and I graduated Hogwarts already. It was…hard to be there without you. I'm just so sorry we couldn't get you out sooner. I tried so hard but…it's just…you know." It was really weird to see my bookish friend at such a loss for words. It was something that I couldn't remember ever happening before.

"It's not your fault, Hermione. There's nothing you could have done." Hermione still didn't look all that consoled, so I tried diverting her attention. "So, uh…what do you guys do now?"

It didn't help at all.

"That's just it! Ron and I both work for the Ministry! Well, in a way. Ron is a trainee Auror, so he works for the Ministry directly. I found a job in law. I thought…I just figured that with my position, I would be able to help you! As well as all the magical creatures out there that aren't treated right," she exclaimed.

I nearly laughed out loud, but was fortunately able to hold in my mirth. I had no desire to offend my friend. The huff of air that escaped my mouth could be mistaken for a deep breath. Maybe frustration, I don't know.

"Hermione, it's not your fault. I know how the Ministry is." And I certainly did, not all of that knowledge came from personal experience, either. Some of those people in Azkaban had truly done nothing wrong. Spoken out against the Minister of their time, yes, but nothing truly horrible. People had a tendency to forget those who were thrown into the prison, and so no one bothered to look over old cases. What Ministry Official wanted to point out flaws in their own system? Too much work, that.

A jaw-cracking yawn interrupted my thoughts. Hermione, who was sitting in the chair next to the hospital bed, leaned over.

"Oh, you must be exhausted! Go ahead and have a rest. Ron should be stopping by soon as long as nothing big happens. Once he's here, we can continue talking. There's some big news that you should know, but it can wait," Hermione assured me. I couldn't find it in me to protest. I really _was_ tired, as ridiculous as it was. You would think, with all of the sleep I had been getting, that I would already be rather well-rested. Hermione sat back with a book, and I closed my eyes.

It felt like no time had passed at all when I next woke up. The smell of food wafted through the little room and made my mouth water. When I opened my eyes, it was to see two chairs sitting next to my bed, and only one occupied.

Hermione looked up from her book and smiled when I turned my head to face her.

"Ron's just arrived. He'll be back in a second; he went out to grab a drink. Also, the nurse told me that you're to take the two potions sitting on your side table, and then eat. I'll let the nurses know you're awake," she said softly. The bushy-haired witch closed her book and then stood, leaving her book on the chair as she walked out into the hallway.

While Hermione busied herself with catching the attention of a mediwitch, I looked over to the potions that I was charged with taking. Neither looked the least bit appetizing but, one way or another, I knew I would be forced to take them.

By the time Hermione returned to the room with Ron and a nurse by her side, I was reclining in the bed wishing for something to take the awful taste from my mouth.

"Oh good, you've taken your potions. Here is your meal. Make sure to eat all of it, now. You're still a little underweight from lack of…proper nourishment," said the unfamiliar witch. She obviously knew what the prisoners in Azkaban were fed and disapproved. I snorted after taking a peek at her thoughts, which earned me an odd look, but nothing more. She did indeed know some of the conditions inside the prison, and was somewhat offended about it. I couldn't tell why without diving deeper into her thoughts, and I didn't want to risk being found out.

Finally, when the bustling nurse was finished checking up on me, she left us to talk amongst ourselves with a reminder of when visiting hours ended. Ron began as soon as the witch left.

"Man, Harry! It's good to see you awake! So, er, how're you feeling?" he said, obviously relieved to be able to talk to me.

"I'm…better." It was vague enough to suffice, I supposed.

"I mean, it's been…um, a while. Yeah? So, uh. How was, er…" Ron trailed off to the glare from Hermione.

"Oh, really, Ron. You can't just ask – "

"If you're trying to ask how Azkaban was," I began, cutting off Hermione before she could get started, "well, it was cozy. Now, not what I would call a top service place, but I certainly got food delivered every day." I grinned at him.

Ron looked at for a second, the awkward smile frozen on his face, before letting out a puff of air in a pathetic attempt at a laugh. My smile really must be terrifying or something. Hermione huffed out of annoyance of Ron's lack of tactfulness and my bad joke, but her eyes were stuck on my face, the concern nearly bursting from her.

"So," I began, wanting to clear the awkwardness that had fallen between us. "You mentioned that there were some things you wanted to talk about?"

"Oh yeah! Did Hermione tell you that I got into Auror Training? They didn't even care that I never took NEWT potions!" exclaimed Ron.

"That's great, Ron." I didn't really understand why he was so excited to work for the Ministry. They were a bunch of cowards who placed blame wherever they could.

"Yeah, well, it was mostly because of…stuff that was happening. They kinda lowered some requirements for the program. But still, Auror Training!" He certainly had wanted to become an Auror for quite a while. I was happy for him, yet still…it was the Ministry that had locked up an underage wizard. Not to mention Sirius, who had been completely innocent. My responding smile was half-hearted.

"That isn't what we needed to talk about, though," Hermione cut in. It didn't stop Ron from celebrating his success, but it did put a damper on his mood. "A lot of stuff has happened since you were sentenced, Harry. It got…pretty bad, actually."

"Yeah mate. A lot of people are scared. You-Know-Who attacked a lot more while you were away. Dumbledore was hardly ever at school while we were there," Ron added.

"Professor Dumbledore, Ron. Anyway, it was because of this that you were let out," Hermione said, sparing Ron a disapproving glance for the lack of title on Dumbledore's name. "The Minister was still very much against letting you go-"

"Yeah, it's like he has it out for you, Harry," Ron interrupted.

"Ron! Let me finish!" Hermione exclaimed. She was obviously losing her patience. "I wasn't working for long enough to really help, so I wasn't as involved as I wanted to be in getting your release. From what I heard, it was pressure from the Wizengamot that finally got Minister Scrimgeour to let you free. I don't know what you did, Harry, but you somehow made him an enemy. That could be dangerous, because he can really make things difficult for you."

I gave her a look for that last bit, and she understood quickly.

"I know. You already know how he can be. I'm just worried, Harry." I nodded to her, and she continued to explain what had happened while I was away. "Well, V-voldemort has –"

"_Hermione_!" Ron yelled, wincing from the use of the evil name.

"Oh, Ron. You're training to be an Auror now. You can't be afraid of the name anymore! Remember what Professor Dumbledore said! Anyway, _He_ has gotten a lot more active. There were raids on quite a few different villages. There was nearly nothing left of them, afterwards. People were just too afraid to fight back, it seemed. Recruitment for the Aurors has shot way up, but they're mostly younger adults and they're all still in training." Here, the bushy-haired witch lowered her voice a bit. "Ron and I, now that we're old enough, we've joined the order. Some were against it, such as Mrs. Weasley –"

"Mum would never have let me join, if she had her way. She didn't even want Bill to join, and he had already moved out!" Ron interrupted, yet again. I could definitely imagine that from the Weasley Matriarch.

"Well," Hermione continued, "the Order is trying to use the people that they have to…help avoid more incidents." It took me a second before I remembered what she was talking about.

Snape. Awful as a person, but to still be alive, he must be rather successful as a spy. As long as he was actually on our side. Otherwise, I'd be taking him down personally and with joy. Fucking bastard. I couldn't help but scowl at thoughts of him. A cracking sound distracted me. Ron and Hermione also heard it, as they were looking around to see what had made the noise, but we couldn't find anything. Ron was the first to shrug and turn back to us, but Hermione and I eventually gave up as well.

"Anyone we know, well, gone?" Yeah, not the most tactful way of asking, but it was a question that was bothering me.

"Well, from our year, Hannah Abbot. Do you remember her? She was friends with Susan Bones. Susan took it really hard. Most of the others were younger years that we never really got to know. It's just so sad." Hermione responded, her eye tearing up a bit. The past two years seemed to have been pretty hard on her.

"Yeah, mate. A lot of owls would come every week with the black letters." Ron added.

"Black letters?" I asked. I hadn't heard of those before. Hermione was the one to answer.

"They are the condolence letters sent out once a death has been registered. I still don't think the first years should have received those. It was awful to see those letters with the morning post. Every day, everyone would just stare up at the owls praying that there were no black letters that day." Hermione shuddered simply remembering the nervousness she had experienced.

"Let's not think about it too much. I mean, you should just, you know, rest and stuff. The mediwitch mentioned earlier that you could be let out soon." Ron said, obviously trying to shake off his own recollections of the tense mornings he had suffered, waiting to see if he would receive a black envelope with an equally black letter inside.

"Ron's right," agreed Hermione. "Professor Dumbledore mentioned during the last…meeting…that you would be brought to the meeting place to finish your recovery. You'll be getting out of St. Mungos pretty soon."

Hermione was right, and only a day later I was hustled off to Grimmauld Place. It was still dark and sinister-looking, and I hated being there. But it was a safe place, and I would likely be more able to get around and do things away from St. Mungos. The Healers at St. Mungos argued with Dumbledore about having me attend some psychiatric meetings, but the Old wizard eventually wore them down.

It was wonderful to be around the people I knew, but Grimmauld Place had its own prison-like charm. There was nothing I hated more than being locked up, for my safety or for the safety of others, it didn't matter.

I still, at times, felt like a prisoner.

…

…

And now, I want to see if any of you reading this wants to create the 'cover art' for this story. I will credit the artwork to you on my profile page and in the author's notes. Since it is so early in the story, I understand that you might not exactly know what to create, so just PM me for details if you are interested. Sadly, I just don't have the tools with me to do it myself.

So, a slightly longer chapter than usual. Mostly to make up for the bit of a wait you guys had for this chapter. I can't promise that the next chapter will be coming extremely soon. Work and classes still need to come first, although I will be working on it. _**Happy New Year**_, _**everyone**_!


	10. Without a Set of Claws

I don't own the characters and all that. A very grateful thanks to **Mashkai30** for reviewing. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. I admit to being quite distracted by life events and reading the lovely stories of many other authors on this site. Currently, I suggest you check out **Black Coat **by **Hermione Prime **in your free-time.

**On the Wrong Side of Sanity**

**Chapter 9: Without a Set of Claws**

_Sorrows gather around great souls as storms do around mountains;_

_But, like them, they break the storm and purify the air of the plain beneath them._

_-Jean Paul_

I stared down at my hands, thin and cracked as they were. There still seemed to be dirt and grime under my nails that I just couldn't wash away. Still, I was cleaner and felt better than I had in such a long time. Regular sleep could do that for you.

Still, I wasn't exactly happy. I was trapped, although this cage was better stocked than my cell in Azkaban. I could get out of bed, I could roam the halls under the watchful eyes of the Order, but I could not go outside. Although it was better, it was _not_ freedom. Even through my dissatisfaction, I was glad to have contact with my two best friends when they could get away from work. They visited whenever they had the time, and obviously when there was a meeting for the order. Dumbledore had banned me from attending the meetings, something that strained the relationship between us. But there was more going on, I could feel it.

The Headmaster acted different around me now; more reserved, cautious even. It seemed like even he who once nearly felt like family, a grandfather through sentiment, felt uneasy around me, as if I might suddenly attack without provocation. Worse than that, he kept my wand from me. My wand, which he had somehow saved from destruction, was out of my reach. It felt like he was holding a dear friend hostage.

Like he was holding part of me hostage.

I turned in bed, trying to get comfortable again and perhaps fall back to sleep. The frost on the window of my room caused the whole pane of glass to glow from the moonlight and cast gentle shadows around the room. The silence of the winter was both comforting and unnerving, and it made it hard to slip into sleep. My mind replayed the sounds of crying and moaning of the prisoners that had once surrounded me, sounds that had become so normal for me after years in the prison. The new silence was almost oppressing. Yet the silence signified something for me. It was change, for there was never such calm silence in Azkaban.

Another turn on the bed, and my discomfort eased, allowing my eyes to slip shut.

…

A small smile spread on my face as I heard the front door close and the exclamations of today's visitors. Ron and Hermione, shaking off the cold from outside, strode into the kitchen in high spirits like always when they came by to see me. Today marked the second week of staying at Grimmauld Place. Two weeks of nearly unending rest and not-quite-relaxation. I was bored stiff while Ron and Hermione went to work, or whenever they were kept cooped up in meetings for the Order. I was still miffed about being barred from them by Dumbledore, but at least my friends told me whatever they were able.

Today, however, was simply a day to spend together and continue to repair the friendship that had essentially been put on hold during my stay in prison. It was still weird to talk to them at times; to remember that they were no longer the same people that I had known when I had been taken away. They were adults, with jobs and everything. I sometimes felt so out of my depth when confronted with the fact that I had missed that major life transition. I still felt like a kid in some ways and yet even older than them in others.

"Hey Harry! Sorry we're a bit late today. I was held up with a bit of extra training," called Ron as he set his coat aside.

"Don't worry, I've nowhere to be," I said, only with the barest amount of irritation. I was proud of that, too.

"Not to worry, mate. You'll be allowed out and about in no time, probably." He was simply being optimistic, but it helped nonetheless.

"Harry, when I last spoke to Professor Dumbledore, he said that he would try to make time to talk to you about something. He didn't mention what it was, though," Hermione said, a pensive look flitting across her face.

"Don't worry about it," I replied, although I felt a little edgier after hearing that he wanted to speak. "I'm sure I'll find out soon." With that taken care of, our conversation turned once again to unimportant matters.

…

"Harry! It's been a while since we have talked!" The voice was rough around the edges, and tired sounding, but I knew immediately who it was.

"Remus!" I exclaimed, looking up from reading material given to me by Hermione. I wasn't usually big on reading, but things could change when you were bored enough.

"Harry, I wanted to say that I'm sorry," Remus started. I couldn't imagine what he was apologizing for.

"What? Why?" I asked.

"First Sirius and then you. Neither of you ever deserved to be sent to Azkaban. I wish I could have done more for you –."

"Remus, you couldn't have done anything. So just forget about it." Also, I was sick of people referring to the prison by now, and if they all just forgot it happened, that would be fine by me.

"Just remember, if you ever need to talk, about _anything_, just tell me," Remus said, looking at me with concern. A second later I was enveloped in an unexpected, but not unwelcome, hug. "There is an Order meeting tonight. Afterwards, Albus has informed me that he would like to speak to you," he informed me after letting me go. I nodded my understanding. Remus sent one more smile my way before heading for the usual meeting room while I sat down and waited for the meeting to end, only slightly irritated by the reminder that I couldn't participate in these meetings.

What seemed like hours later, the door to the meeting room opened and released a flow of witches and wizards, some of whom I was familiar with, all heading out of the house. Soon the hall was quiet once more with only a few Order members left behind chatting to one another, and I turned my attention back to the book in my lap out of boredom.

A minute later, Dumbledore strode into the room with authority, as he always seemed to do. He answered the greetings given by present Order members quickly, and made his way over to where I was sitting. I still had a bit of unresolved hostility for him, though I think I hid that quite well. The Headmaster sat down across from me and erected a privacy ward.

"How are you doing here, my boy? I certainly hope that you are recovering from your ordeal nicely." It wasn't what I wanted to talk about, but I went along with it. When did the Headmaster ever get straight to the matter?

"I'm doing better." There, I had put effort into a decent response.

"And how about your friends, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasely? I hear that they visit nearly every day. Have you been able to catch up?" His eyes were sparkling. This couldn't be the reason that he stopped by to talk to me, but he had to be honestly happy to see the three of us together and part of the so-called 'Golden Trio' once again.

"Yes, Headmaster. It's really good to see them again." I replied.

"Good, good," he said distractedly. "I know that you have been somewhat…impatient to have your wand returned to you. I have been-"

"Will I be getting it back now?" I asked hurriedly. I wouldn't feel whole again until I had my wand once more. I had been asking Dumbledore about it every chance I had since being moved to Grimmauld Place.

"Please let me finish." I nodded, but my hand twitched with the desire to throttle the man keeping me from using my magic. My heritage. That thought made me pause, because it didn't even feel like mine. I had no time to think about it when Dumbledore began speaking again.

"I have been in contact with the Minister quite a bit. With the recent trouble with Voldemort, we feel that you will need a way to protect yourself. However, Minister Scrimgeour has voiced his concern over giving you a wand," he explained. I couldn't keep quiet after hearing that.

"But Headmaster! I need my wand! It's mine! Without it, it feels like I'm not myself! My magic feels locked away. I have a right to my wand!" Towards the end of my short rant, my voice became more of a harsh demand, and the chair beneath me groaned in protest to my movement. The Headmaster did not respond right away, only giving me a curious look that I couldn't interpret through my frustration.

"You will have your wand, my boy." His voice was genial, but the sparkle in his eye was absent. "You'll simply have to be patient. One must work with the Ministry, not against it, in order to get through this tough time. Should you have any reason to leave Grimmauld Place, you will be accompanied for your protection. Also," here, he paused as if he wasn't entirely sure about what he would say next. I had never seen this happen before. "Harry, should you want to talk to someone after what happened, please feel free to tell me or any of your friends."

I was taken aback by this, for it was not at all what I had expected. "Do you mean, like, a shrink?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"I can always find someone to talk to you about your experiences. Azkaban is an awful place, and many people who have been there even for a short time have a hard time recovering. Perhaps talking to someone who specializes in this field could help you." The Headmaster looked at me with a gentle face, but worry in his eyes that he couldn't seem to hide. I only felt a bit indignant.

"I'm not crazy." I _wasn't_.

"I know, my boy. Talking to someone does not mean that you are." With that, Dumbledore stood up. "Well, I must be off. Please think about what I said, and be patient. Things will soon calm down, and I am certain that you will be reunited with your wand."

I watched the old wizard leave the house quietly, angry, but not wanting to sulk like a child. I would show them that I was fine, and then I would have my wand again.

Feeling tired from the conversation that wasn't quite an argument, I went upstairs to my room.

…

A month later, and I was still holding on to the hope of getting my wand back, though my patience was thinner than ever. I was angry with Dumbledore for refusing me every time I asked, and sometimes I could just barely remain civil with him. It was awkward. I had never thought that I would be so at odds with the Headmaster. Today, I was visiting Wizarding London with the bodyguards that I did not want with me. The weather was still chill, as it always was in March, but at least there was no rain as of yet. Still, the sky did not look promising and, as much as I wanted to stay well away from my more comfortable prison, I wanted to be stuck outside in the rain even less.

I had gotten permission to leave in order to make purchases of clothing and the like. That was the 'official' reason that I was free of the house for the day, however I was sure that my request to leave was granted out of the desire to make me a little less at odds with the Headmaster. I didn't think that would happen, though. Not until I once more had my wand.

My guards today were two people that I wasn't all that familiar with. They acted like Aurors, but were in civilian robes, so I couldn't be sure. Both of them were male and not talkative at all. The taller of the two often walked slightly ahead of me, guiding me from shop to shop with an efficiency that I didn't want. The smaller and slightly older-looking one stayed behind and looked around constantly while keeping an eye out for trouble. Still, though I wasn't a fan of the company that I had to keep, it was better than sitting in my room at Grimmauld Place as long as it didn't rain.

The three of us entered another store, this one selling all kinds of footwear. I took my sweet time looking at different kinds of shoes with various charms on them. Some of them simply repelled water while others allowed you to walk on _top_ of water. Some were so thoroughly charmed with extra features that they seemed to almost glow with magic. The shoes truly didn't interest me all that much. I was just afraid that as soon as I finished my shopping, I would be herded back to the old house and likely wouldn't be able to escape for a long while after.

Eventually, the shifting of the guards, not to mention the less-than-cheerful stares they were sending me, prompted me to pick out a random pair of shoes and head to the counter to pay. I stared at the man behind it when he told me the price, feeling irritated.

"That's not how much these are worth." I stated blandly. The shopkeeper stared back at me, looking as if he was offended, so I picked some number slightly lower than what he had been accidentally projecting in his mind. "They're only worth about twenty-seven galleons, and you know it. The enchantments on these aren't all that great." The shopkeeper had a mind like an open book.

The shopkeeper puffed himself up importantly before responding. "I can only go as low as twenty-nine galleons and seventeen sickles."

I accepted his new offer, slightly surprised that he had relented so quickly. However, the very fact that he had tried to rip me off made me wonder. How many other shopkeepers had done the same when I shopped for school supplies in years past?

Soon after, I was once again walking outside and casting distrustful glances up at the gray sky. We were headed for another shop for me to pick up some more necessities when the trip was suddenly interrupted. A loud crash came from somewhere down the street and, of course, my first instinct was to head in that direction to make sure everyone was okay. People were whispering here and there about something, but I was soon crowded out by my bodyguards trying to lead me back into a shop and through the Floo system. It wasn't until we had made it all the way to a building that things began to pick up. I heard the screaming first, which had me turning around to try to see what was happening. It didn't matter that I didn't have my wand. I barely even thought of it. I wanted to help; to do something, _anything_, to help.

Past the bodies of the two guards with me, I saw some people running into various buildings while screaming. A group of people in long black robes and white masks explained what was going on easily. And still my bodyguards were doing nothing to help the civilians out in the streets, and instead where focused on getting me out. Our progress stopped as we neared the floo system that had already turned green signaling an arrival, hopefully of Aurors to halt the attack. I stared at the floo hopefully while the bodyguards peered outside to get a better idea of the danger.

Their concern with what was outside almost cost them. And me.

The figure that stepped out of the fireplace was also covered in dark robes. They had their wand raised and ready almost as soon as they took a step towards the door. A jump to the side was all that saved me from a dark green curse, and my surprised yell was the only warning that my bodyguards got before the cloaked man was upon them. Their fight was an awful mix of curses, dodging, and occasional blood from flying debris. The two verses one fight was in the favor of those guarding me, but unfortunately left me open to attack. With no wand to defend myself with, the curse that was sent my way caused me to fly back into a table littered with papers and books. The edge hit me hard, and I found it difficult to pick myself off of the ground and catch my breath. However, the sounds from the fight between the three people in the building were gone. Soon enough, one of the guards, the smaller one, hobbled over to me in order to check me over.

"You alright there?" he asked. Blood dripped down from somewhere in his hair and ran down his neck into his robe. He seemed rather unconcerned with it.

"Yeah." It came out more as a wheeze than I had hoped, but he understood me anyway.

"Alright then, get yourself through the fireplace. We need to hurry this along before anyone else pops out," he grunted at me. I only took a glance at the fireplace before turning back to him in concern.

"What about the other guy? And the people out there?"

"Not my job. Gerald will be fine, now go." He was obviously not a patient man. Besides that, it struck me as slightly callous for him to be so wholly unconcerned with the other people out on the streets. But hell, what could _**I **_do? I didn't even have a wand.

With that, I uneasily made my way over to the fireplace, picked up some of the remaining floo powder, and called out my destination.

…

…

I'm still looking to see if anyone is interested in creating the cover art!

Also, to everyone reading! Reviewing a story truly helps authors on these sites write more! Helpful criticism leads them to develop as a writer, and simple encouragement spurs them to write more. If you simply review one story out of the many that you might read in a day, even if it isn't mine, you greatly help all of those writers out there trying to whip up something entertaining for the massive number of readers that use this site every day.

Lastly, I want to wish you all Happy Holidays. Hopefully you can spend it with the family.


	11. The Tool of Wizards

Another chapter and another suggestion on a story that could catch your interest. **Knives in the Dark **by **Norrrrrrrrr**. Check it out, I dare you. Don't be surprised if you get hooked.

A thanks to **blackcallalily**, **ElDani, lordamnesia, **and** anarion87** for your reviews. A special thanks to the unnamed guest who wrote a very appreciated review of their thoughts regarding this story. Thanks! Hopefully this chapter begins to answer your concerns regarding the plot.

Another thanks to all of those who have followed or favorited this story! Think of this extra fast chapter as an early Christmas present.

**On the Wrong Side of Sanity**

**Chapter 10: The Tool of Wizards**

_Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host._

_But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean._

_-Maya Angelou_

"**He might not have died!**"

"You know it is not my place to question the instructions of Minister Sc-"

"**That's just bullshit! It's never stopped you before!**"

"Now you just sit down and listen to the Headma-"

"**No! I won't! So stop trying to butt in! Headmaster, I didn't even like the guy, but if I had my wand at the time things could have been different!"**

"Now Harry, you must understand that this was for your own safety as well as for others'."

"I'm not buying that. It didn't _feel _safe."

A vase of flowers overturned onto the floor from what must have been a gust of wind from an open window. The sound startled me, and I looked down. The act of looking away from Dumbledore was enough to let me calm down just a bit. Enough to stop yelling, at least.

The atmosphere in the living room was predictably tense after my short shouting match with the Headmaster. Mrs. Weasley stood off to the side looking absolutely appalled at my behavior, but I wasn't truly worried about it at the moment. It had taken two days for the complete body of Gerald Hoofsetter, the other guard for my outing to the village, to be found. He was one of the few to have died in the attack on the village, but when they found him, he had been torn apart. It seemed like whatever mistake that the Death Eaters had made during the beginning of their attack had given people enough of a chance to run and get out of the way. However, the few people that had stood their ground until the Aurors had made it to the scene hadn't fared very well at all. The press had a field day with it.

What seemed to feel even worse was that, with the high emotions, I could tell that Mrs. Weasley agreed with me, and yet she was still siding with the Headmaster.

"Harry, what would you have done if you had your wand then?" asked Dumbledore, sounding as if he was going to try to lead me to an epiphany that it was better that I didn't have my wand at my side. I wasn't going to buy this, no matter how he spun it.

"I could have helped, or stopped the attack on us, or hell, as _least _defended myself."

"Harry, my boy, if you had gone out to stand with those other unfortunate souls, we might have lost you as well. And your other guard would have certainly gone with you in an attempt to keep you safe. We could have easily lost all three of you," the Headmaster replied softly. Unfair, but at least slightly effective.

"I still want my wand back. This is absurd; me not having anything with me to defend myself with." I glowered at him for emphasis. The Headmaster gave me a long look, but seemed to eventually come to a decision.

"I will speak to the Minister about it. This was truly a close call. Perhaps you should consider relaxing within the confines of the house?" It felt like a low blow, nearly an accusation that it was my fault that this had happened in the first place, though he probably didn't mean it that way. A call from the entryway diffused the remaining tension, and the old wizard stood from his chair to say his goodbyes as Ron entered the room. Ron stopped and looked at the three of us in the room, likely catching on fastest to his mother's unhappy expression, but he said nothing about it. It was almost as if he had learned a bit of tact in the past few years, for which I was grateful. I was certain that Mrs. Weasley was very close to giving me a lecture about proper behavior, and anything could set her off.

"Harry, you interested in a game of chess?" I had to smile at him as his mother simply huffed and made her way into the kitchen to prepare lunch.

…

I could feel the power of my wand as it was brought to me. It felt amazing, like I was finally myself again. It was the happiest that I'd felt in a long while just to see it. And suddenly it was in my hand again.

Oh, I had missed this so much.

Feeling my fingers curve around the smooth wood, feeling the magic inside.

"Harry, are you ok? Hello? … Harry?" Ron's voice barely whispered across my ears, for my whole attention was focused on my wand.

Suddenly it sparked, nearly the same as what had happened when I had first picked up the wand after my eleventh birthday. But there was something different about it this time. The feeling that it gave me was strange.

Light built up around the tip of the wand, and then spread further down toward my hand. I wasn't exactly afraid, but confused. What was happening? I heard a scream coming from someone next to me and looked over to see Ginny just staring at the wand and yelling. I couldn't understand why. Another scream came from my other side, and there stood Hermione.

When I finally looked back to my wand, it burst. For the first time, I was afraid of it. My own wand seemed to have turned on me for no reason, like it was punishing me for something. I went to throw the wand away from me, but it hurt. It really hurt me.

I gasped loudly and clutched my hand near my chest, looking around the darkened bedroom. My knuckles and fingers stung rather badly from where I had apparently hit them on the headboard. No wand was in sight, but my dream made me shudder anyway. Could something like that actually happen? Could your own wand really reject you like that? Although I knew that it had only been a dream, it made me feel uneasy anyway.

But no, I was being silly.

Probably.

The night outside was calm and dark, with little light from the moon to see by. It was quite a contrast to my dream, and made it slightly easier to push the entire thing to the back of my mind.

Settling back down to sleep took some time, but I had plenty of it as everyone else was still asleep for the night.

…

A full week and a half after the attack, and I finally got good news. The Minister had agreed that it was necessary that I had my wand returned to me for safety. Apparently satisfied that I wasn't going to suddenly turn on my friends and attack them, he had given the Headmaster leave to give me my wand. My irritation over the matter was overshadowed by my excitement to see my wand again. With the knowledge that I would soon get to hold my wand again, the next twenty-four hours felt like torture.

When Dumbledore stepped through the door the next day, I was most certainly the first to greet him, although not with the warmest sentiments. However, when he pulled out the box that contained my wand, I just about forgot all previous grievances with the man. The Headmaster handed the entire box to me without a word, but offering a smile. I took the box from his hand almost reverently and opened it as if it was a precious gift.

It was, in a way.

When I finally felt the wood in my hand, it felt like home. Things felt right with the world, and more of my anger melted away. I could feel the connection that I help with my wand, and feeling that made me shiver at the possibility that this could have been lost to me.

"Harry, I would ask that you not use your wand for now but for the most extreme and dangerous situations. There are some remaining…tests that I would like to have completed on your wellbeing before you try your magic again. I am in the process of locating someone who has the needed items."

I looked at my Headmaster in alarm.

"Is there something wrong with my magic?" I asked, not sure what to believe.

"It is nothing to worry about, my boy. There are simply some records of…changes that some previous prisoner's experienced with their magic. Nothing too harmful. Still, I would prefer that you wait for the examination to be concluded before attempting to use your wand," he replied.

I nodded my assent to his request, my mind going back to my one nightmare not too long before I finally got my wand back. Not that I thought it would actually happen but, well, it _was _better to be safe, wasn't it?

In the next few days, I always had my wand with me wherever I went. It didn't matter that I wasn't supposed to use it yet, I just needed the thing with me. It was almost like I felt that, if it was out of my sight for too long a period, it would be snatched away from me again. The thought alone was enough to make me angry with anyone who might try.

Even with the promise to Dumbledore about not using magic, as well as my own hesitance due to a stupid nightmare, I wondered about using at least some small charm. That couldn't cause much harm, could it? Even just to prove to myself that everything was normal, that my magic was ok. That wouldn't be too bad. Still, I held myself in check.

What if something _had _gone wrong with my magic? That 'what if' terrified me.

…

A day or two of sitting around with the itch to use my wand slowly getting worse made me nearly twitchy. It only really got better when others were around to distract me, especially Ron or Hermione. Actually, I was waiting for them to stop by today like they had promised. They were running a bit late to have dinner with me, but that wasn't anything too unusual. A few more minutes of sitting near the fireplace and I was up again, feeling jittery. The sound of steps coming up to the door caught my attention, and I turned to look at the door as it opened to reveal my two friends. I smiled at them as they entered the house.

They didn't smile back, and that worried me. If not that, then the serious looks on their faces.

"…what?" I enquired. Hopefully it wasn't anything do with the war against Voldemort.

"It's nothing," replied Hermione, a bit too quickly.

"Harry, it's just that there's some guy tha-"

"Ron! Headmaster Dumbledore wouldn't want us to-"

"Hermione! It has to do with Harry! He should know!" Ron exclaimed. I was rooting for Ron.

Hermione looked unsure of herself, and then nodded at Ron, who gave her a reassuring smile and then looked at me again.

"Harry, it's the press. Well, some guy who apparently looks like you was killing and torturing some people. We know it wasn't, but people are nervous. They're saying that you've gone mad." Ron shrugged apologetically.

"It's even easier for them to believe it this time because you've just gotten out of Azkaban, Harry," continued Hermione.

"They've been wrong about me so many times. Haven't they learned by now?" I asked no one in particular. It was frustrating, but nothing that was new to me. I was just starting to hate those who looked to me for savior but then cried out for my blood whenever someone said something bad about me.

"The article about it isn't by Skeeter, for once. Must be someone who looks up to her, though," said Ron while tossing the paper in my direction.

I was almost scared to read it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Attack by the Boy-Who-Lived!<strong>_

_Ms. Heather Wiltspire_

_Rumors about a young man attacking, killing, and sometimes even torturing people have__been circulating for some time now. However, some brave souls have finally decided to __come forward to tell their story concerning events that have hurt them so deeply._

"_I had thought it was just a nightmare, caused by the release of that Potter boy when the man first approached the house," said one woman who had been attacked while at home with her two grandchildren. "It was just so scary, you know, seeing a man stalk up to your house in the dead of night."_

_That's right! Some citizens of this fine country count the Boy-Who-Lived as a nightmare, but could there be some grounds for this apparent fear?_

_I interviewed five different people about these rumors of attacks. Some were unwilling to comment, however not all were so reserved._

"_That's right, I have heard of the bloke! Sounds a bit bonkers, if you ask me," said one young man._

_Another assured me that the rumors were true, saying that he had seen the cloaked man himself._

_You might think to yourself that this doesn't seem to have anything to do with our young star; however some of the descriptions of the attacker are chilling._

"_He was a rather short bloke, short and skinny. I didn't think he'd cause any trouble at all when he visited the house. More like a young man still in school that had somehow gotten himself lost, you know?" stated one of the victims._

_Another of the victims, a young girl just out of school, had this to say:_

"_His eyes were what caught my attention, really. His dark hair sort of covered a lot of his face, but his eyes really stood out. I still see that bright shade of green when I close my eyes to go to bed. It gives me the creeps, it does."_

_We, as a community, might want to ask ourselves what our famous young man has been up to in the time that he's been out of Azkaban. It is well known that time in Azkaban has an incredibly strong effect on the minds of those who have had to endure it. Could our boy wonder be roaming our streets without full control of his actions? Or, perhaps, is something more sinister afoot with our young hero?_

* * *

><p>Damn, she was convincing. It would be no wonder if people truly began to scream for my blood after reading this article. I just couldn't catch a break, could I?<p>

"It's not all bad, Harry. You know that Minister Scrimgeour and Headmaster Dumbledore know that it wasn't you that attacked anybody. With people that powerful backing you, there shouldn't be a problem," Hermione pointed out. While it wasn't much, it _did_ make me feel better. The last time that the press had it out for me, I had only Dumbledore to try to protect me. This time would be different.

"Thanks Hermione." I smiled at her, which seemed to cheer her up a bit. The rest of their visit was much more relaxed as I tried to put the whole thing to the back of my mind.

No use in trying to worry about it now.

…

I watched out the window as another owl approached, braving the driving rain of the season.

"This one might get through," I mumbled to myself. The last few hadn't.

As the bird approached, it seemed to slow down like it was trying to fly through something thicker than air. Finally, as the barn owl crossed the edge of the property, the letter it was carrying emitted a bright white light and a popping sound, closely followed by a sizzle that I could hear even from inside the house. The bird was shot backwards with its feathers singed and some even molting. The poor startled owl sat where it was thrown for a minute before hopping to its feet. With what looked like an angry stare at the letter it had carried, it flew away with a slight wobble.

Well, wrong again. The letter could have contained anything from a tracking charm to bubotuber pus. Perhaps even a nasty curse. It didn't matter. They weren't getting through the new wards.

I looked over at the pile of angry letters that _had _made it through the wards and winced. People weren't happy with me, which was normal, but now they were angry enough to take the time to send letters about it. Again.

I really wouldn't want to be in the Minister's shoes right now, as he probably actually had to go through all of his letters.

…

* * *

><p><em><strong>Minister to Take Action?<strong>_

_Ms. Heather Wiltspire_

_We heard earlier this week about the possibly monstrous actions of this nation's previously beloved young boy, but nothing yet has been done by officials to put an end to the spree of attacks._

_When this reporter entered the ministry in order to get the views of our officials on this lack of proactive effort, we were turned away. Even efforts to interview the Minister were greeted with "No comment"._

_We, the wizarding community, have a right to know what actions are being taken in order to prevent further atrocities from being done to our fellow wizards. Certainly we should be able to trust that our ministry will not refuse to take action for a community that is held under siege of fear._

* * *

><p>…<p>

It was a rough week. Even the presence of my own wand by my side was unable to lessen my tension after the first few days of angry articles. Knowing that the ministry was already aware that I wasn't going out and wantonly attacking people helped settle me sometimes, but it seemed like nothing was being done to stop the articles or to calm the people down. Investigations into the attacks brought no answers, and witnesses assuring Aurors that they had seen me at the scene wasn't helping.

I was sitting in my room, staring at a blank piece of paper that was supposed to be a letter to Ginny. Although I had plenty of ideas about what I might like to say to her, none of them quite made the transition from thought to word. Ginny was currently with Charlie in Romania. Apparently, she had decided to go into handling dangerous animals, and had wanted to see how the Dragon preserve was run. It wasn't something that I would have expected from her, but I had been gone for quite some time.

A sound of the door in the entrance hall interrupted my meandering thoughts.

"Harry, Professor Dumbledore is here to see you!" Mrs. Weasley called from down the stairs.

A quick jog down the stairs soon brought me to Dumbledore, who gave me a small reassuring smile.

"Harry, my boy," he began. "We're going to have you move to the Weasley household for the day. A few Aurors will be stopping by to ask some questions." He must have seen my expression, because he hurried to continue. "There is nothing to be afraid of; they are simply coming by to be sure. The recent news has many people in a fright. While, unofficially, the ministry knows that you have not been out and about, they have hearts to ease."

Not much time was wasted after I had talked to the Headmaster, and soon enough I was entering the doors of the warm household of my best friend's parents. It was nice to see the place again, fir it certainly hand't really changed, but it wasn't enough to settle my nerves of dealing with the Aurors. How the order had gotten the news with enough time to make the change in housing, I had no clue. But the ministry obviously didn't all know about Grimmauld Place yet.

It was just a few hours after settling into the house when the Aurors showed up at the door. I was understandably nervous, even though I hadn't actually done anything wrong.

I was herded into the living room with the Aurors behind me. Their expressions didn't exactly show them to be preforming an _un_official inquiry. Still, I had hope. Besides, I could tell that they weren't angry or even concerned about the whole thing when my mind brushed theirs in a subtle check.

"Mr. Potter," one began. "I hope you know why we are here today."

"I do." What else did he want me to say?

"Well then, let us begin. Since your release from the prison, have you or have you not had excursions outside of your residence without an escort?"

Well, this was an easy one. This little interview might not be so bad after all. "No, I haven't," I answered. Hopefully the rest of the questions would be just as easy.

"In the past month, have you had access to your wand at any point?" Well, they might not like the answer, but it wasn't exactly incriminating or anything.

"Yes." I really didn't feel like giving the man any more than he had asked for. Why? Because fuck Aurors, that's why.

"Have you used your wand?" This question nearly made me sigh out loud in relief. Another one that seemed to be in my favor.

"No, not yet."

The second Auror that was in the room nodded and wrote something down on a piece of paper that I hadn't even noticed he had.

"Would you object to the wand being tested?" asked the first.

Merlin, this thing was a piece of cake.

"Not at all, Sir." I said, trying to sound my politest just to make sure they understood that I had nothing to hide.

"Have you been to get a psychiatric evaluation since your release?"

"I'm not crazy! How many people do I need to tell this? I'm _not _crazy or messed up, or **anything**!" Obviously, I didn't quite handle that one as well as I could have. I was only able to realize that as I took a few calming breaths, and then it was too late.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Potter." They said as they stood and put away their supplies before heading for the door. They didn't even wait for an actual answer, which truthfully made me feel slightly better.

However, on returning to Grimmauld Place, I couldn't help but worry about the outcome. Why weren't any other adults in there with me during the interview? Wasn't I entitled to have people with me to make sure that they didn't, like, harass me?

…

Ron stormed in the next day and threw a folded newspaper on a nearby table. I had curiosity about what it said, but probably didn't actually want to know.

"Damn that man!" he yelled without even looking at me. "I can't believe that he would do that."

My curiosity got the better of me as I sought to find out what he was talking about.

"Listen to this," he began. "The Minister has spoken today that he will investigate further into recent claims of attacks. He promised the people that he will put an end to the fears that many of our nation's citizens are holding. In the interview that he granted, Minister Scrimgeour had this to say: I will question any and all suspects regarding these attacks against Britain's citizens. Fame nor money will protect those that are suspected if committing these atrocities." Here, Ron paused to glance at my reaction before he continued reading out loud. "I have recently received troubling news regarding one of our suspects, and will question them further in order to assure the safety of Britain's people."

It sounded an awful lot like Scrimgeour hadn't just had me questioned earlier as a show. I couldn't help but tune out the rest of the article as my mind started running in circles trying to understand what the minister could possibly be thinking…

…

Later, members of the Order came by the house with news that Aurors had been sent to the Burrow to pick me up. Some of the members that I wasn't quite as familiar with even seemed to throw glances my way, as if they weren't sure I was truly safe to be around or not.

And so yet again, Scrimgeour bowed to the wishes of scared citizens, and this time it was against me. He was supposed to be one of the ones 'in the know' about this. He was supposed to be _backing_ me up; protecting me from the eyes of the public. The public who, not so long ago thought I was essential to winning the war against Voldemort, who just happened to apparently go under the radar somehow. Had they forgotten about him? I was just so sick of this. Not only would Scrimgeour probably try to take me in again, for 'official questioning' of course, but he might even try to take my wand away.

No.

It was not acceptable, not at all. Nobody would take away my wand again.

Not _ever._

…

…

As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Aaaaand I'm still looking for anyone interested in creating the cover art for this story, which will be credited to you. Most helpful if done through deviantArt.


	12. The Free Bird Sings the Most

Yet another suggestion on a Harry Potter story that could catch your interest. **Prince of the Dark Kingdom **by **Mizuni-sama**.

And a thanks goes out to **blackcallalily** for your review. This is a little to tack on to the Christmas post. Though, a bit shorter than the rest. The next Chapter depends on responses to this one. Be prepared!

**On the Wrong Side of Sanity**

**Chapter 11: The Free Bird Sings the Most**

_Go confidently in the direction of your dreams._

_Live the life you have imagined._

_-Henry David Thoreau_

…

I walked quickly into the store that I had seen while searching the minds of passersby for wizards that wouldn't mind doing a bit of illegal alteration to a wand. I was desperate to get rid of the trace that nearly every schoolboy worries about every summer.

When I made it through the front entrance, I couldn't help but allow my eyes wander, most likely easily marking me as new to the store. The place was dark, relatively similar to any of the other stores that I had seen in the area. It looked like the building had a history of being left un-cleaned with each new owner. The man behind the counter had an old look about him, although a look that had less to do with actual age and more to do with a lack of personal care. His eyes were slightly sunken, likely from lack of sleep, and his hair fell in unkempt waves into his face. He gave me a once-over before speaking.

"What c'n I do ya for?" he asked, his accent not at all what I was used to hearing.

"I need my Trace removed. Can you do that?" I asked. It was probably more polite than I truly needed to be, but I was nervous about this whole thing.

"No, I can't. So get yerself back to school," he replied without missing a beat. The man was fucking with me, I knew. I could feel his feelings of slight nervousness: a panic about an unknown waltzing into his shop and asking too outright for something that was a shady business. He thought of the possibility that I was an undercover Auror, which nearly made me laugh out loud.

"Stop fuckin' around. I know you can, and for this amount, I'm sure you will. Number four, if you will," I said with force. The code was simple, but I hadn't known it until I had peeked inside his head. Although the first part of that was just my temper. I didn't have time to waste. At any moment, Dumbledore, or even a troupe of Aurors, could come busting through that door to take me back.

After looking at the bag of coins that I had tossed on the table, the man gave me one last uncertain glance before nodding. Apparently, the gold was worth the risk. While the man tinkered with my wand, muttering a couple of quiet spells, I continued to look around the shop. It seemed his front was that of an old, used book store. Some of the darkly colored books actually looked as if they were about ready to fall apart at the seams. A grunting noise from the man brought my gaze back to him, only to be met with a suspicious glare.

"What the hell've you brought this here fer?" he snarled at me. "There ain't no underage Trace on this goddam thing! How old are ye, ye damn fool?"

And that was when I realized my stupidity. I wasn't exactly underage anymore, now was I? I felt like a fool, but it still didn't make sense. I never graduated Hogwarts, so how could the trace be gone? Unless it only had to do with age, and that's why the ministry takes and breaks the wands of anyone who dropped out?

"Check for anything else on it, then." I tried to project some authority into my voice, if only to cover my embarrassment for the mistake. Another glance from the unclean wizard, and then he was back to work.

"No Trace, but a tracker. Would'a been able to show people right where you were at any moment" he finally said.

"Well, take it off!" I nearly yelled. How quickly could people have noticed that I was gone? It hadn't exactly been difficult to sneak out of Grimmauld, but that was because the place was warded not to keep people in, but to keep them out. I hadn't even been gone a few hours yet, only enough to stop by the thankfully war-neutral and somewhat ministry-hating Gringotts in order to get out as much money as I could carry.

A full twenty minutes later, I was finally walking out of that dingy shop, a deal of money lighter yet satisfied. Now all I had to do was get a better disguise, and I could probably elude everybody who was looking for me for a decent while. My disguise now only consisted of muggle clothing. A hat to cover my forehead and to keep my hair over as much of my face as possible, and a pair of sunglasses to hide my bright green eyes while I was in the streets. Nobody seemed to even truly glance my way, like I was invisible simply for looking like a muggle-born. It was sad, but then this disguise would only hold out as long as I steered clear of anyone who actually knew me.

But what could I do? Dye my hair? Change my eye color? Would that even work against people for long? I couldn't imagine that people would be dumb enough to fall for that for a long time, and I almost wished that I could just go somewhere where nobody really knew who I was.

Or could I? Did I really have to stay in wizarding Britain, or even in Europe? Merlin knows how much I had wanted to travel in my youth, well, in my childhood. I always wanted to see what was beyond Surrey and the house that was identical to every other on the block.

And now, perhaps I could.

Perhaps, I _would_.

…

I walked once again through the streets of Diagon Alley, whistling as if I hadn't a care in the world. The other shoppers pacing by in their daily hustle from store to store filled with goods and services that I just couldn't be bothered with at this moment. The sounds were pleasant, surprisingly so considering the fear that my friends had expressed about the war against Voldemort. It was odd, but I guess that people wanted to forget what was going on in the world. They probably would rather simply enjoy the times while there were a lull in vicious attacks by the somewhat organized group.

I should have been more alert, but I was too relieved by my progress so far. No Trace or Tracker on my wand, and the freedom to use it. Although, should I? I couldn't help but look back to what Dumbledore had said to me about seeing someone to check my magic or something of the sort. Could something really be wrong? It didn't feel like it. Still, I wasn't too sure about taking a risk when I was so close to complete freedom. That, and there were still people looking for me in this place. Better that I get out first.

A woman in a bright green dress that seemed slightly short for the cool weather we were having passed me on the right, looking like she was in a hurry to get somewhere and leading a child by the hand. In her other was a small purse-size piece of luggage that looked like it had been shrunk. The only reason that she had caught my attention was how loudly she was admonishing her son for making them late. Without thinking, I checked and saw that she was going on a vacation. By portkey. That made me stop and dig further.

Before, I had always assumed that someone wanting to use a portkey had to apply directly to the ministry for permission, as it was a restricted method of transportation. But there were…travelling companies? Companies that allowed large groups of people to use a single portkey to visit a common area. Before I could go deeper, the woman and her mind were just about out of reach, further lost among the thousands of other intruding thoughts of the various people in Diagon Alley. But what I had learned was enough to give me a start. I had to find one of these companies that used portkeys.

It took hours of what you could almost consider fishing to find anyone thinking about these companies. I needed a name or location, but it seemed that not everyone new about these places, or at least thought about them. Even when I dug deeper into some minds looking for memories of travelling, it only seemed to bring up memories of broomsticks and apparition. This was ridiculous.

Finally, I found a couple that at least knew of the place that I was looking for. In fact, they seemed to be lamenting the fact that they couldn't afford to honeymoon through the company. However, they soon moved on to thinking about other places to visit that they could simply apparate to. I had to weave through a number of people to catch up to the young newlyweds and ask the old-fashioned way.

"Um, excuse me?" I said, not quite thinking everything through before just jumping in. "Do you know where the portkey travelling company is located?"

The couple turned to me in surprise before I continued on, trying to make my request make sense.

"I was supposed to meet a friend there to travel with, but he forgot to explain where it is." It was a poor excuse, and I just had to hope that they didn't think it too odd.

"I…well, we actually just went there today!" the man exclaimed, looking at his wife. He seemed like he must still be bitter about not being able to go where he wanted. "You shouldn't bother though. The prices are ridiculous. Anyway, the name's Fitz's Fast Travels, and it's in…uh…well, it's next to that one Quill Shop up the Alley a ways. I hope that helps!" he finished, glancing again at his wife. She simply shrugged and the couple moved on without waiting for me to reply.

I turned around to look in the general direction that the couple had come from, but was only able to see the many people still walking from store to store. Of the nearby shops, only one was a place to buy quills and writing supplies, but the stores beside it were selling books and children's toys.

Travelling further down the Alley brought me to a couple other quill stores. One had a store with no name next to it, so I tried stepping into that store hoping it was the one that I was looking for. Not a second later, I was hustling back out, trying to clear my nose of the acrid stench coming from the older apothecary. Thankfully, the travelling shop was just a few shops over, and I quickly entered. What I saw was surprising.

There were brochures for different places that you could travel to as well as prices listed down the side. I would have to go back to Gringotts to pick up enough money to pay for this. It didn't take long to come to the decision that it was worth the money. Still, I couldn't help but sigh. How much would I end up spending today? After a shake of my head, I was out the door and on my way to the wizarding bank once more, hoping that my shoddy disguise would continue to hold against the crowds in the streets.

Half an hour later or more, I walked back into the shop, once again feeling slightly uncomfortable about the way that I was dressed. I looked terribly out of place, surrounded by finely crafted chairs and side tables with large and colorful rugs underneath. Even the windows looked expensive, as they were delicate-looking and accented with gold. I would probably have fit in better if I had been wearing some dress robes from the Tri-wizard Tournament Winter Ball. I approached the woman standing behind the desk dressed in a deep blue fitted robe.

"One passenger for a portkey, please," I stated, trying to act like I knew what I was doing and belonged in a place like this, despite my appearance. My excitement about finally being free helped.

"Where will you be heading to?"

…

…

So, _where should he be going_? I'll let you guys help decide first! **One vote per reader**. Just let me know where you think that he should go in the comments for this chapter. I'll tally up your votes and choose from the top three! Happy Reading!


	13. Experiences

A suggestion on a Harry Potter story that could definitely catch your interest. **Twist of Fate **by **FirePhoenix8**. A delightful and intriguing mix of muggle history with the magical. It follows Harry and Tom Riddle.

And a thanks goes out to everyone who voted for your input. I was slightly surprised that so few people decided to vote. For those who did vote and put down more than one place, I added only your first entry, and thus we have an easy winner…

**On the Wrong Side of Sanity**

**Chapter 12: Experiences**

_Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education;_

_in the elder, a part of experience._

_-Francis Bacon_

"Where will you be heading to?"

What a question! I could hardly decide which part of the world to go to, let alone which country or city. The choices that I had were all so overwhelming. I could go anywhere. _Anywhere_! Hell, there was an option to see Antarctica. That one nearly got me, but I certainly didn't have the things I would need to live in such extreme cold. I only knew a few different warming charms and aguamenti, so I soon discarded that one.

"Er…well…"

The woman smiled at me, a hint of amusement in her eyes, but she didn't say anything about my indecision.

"Well, which is the next one to leave?"

"That would be to Japan, sir," she replied.

It hadn't been a country that I had ever thought to visit. I hadn't even ever thought of anything outside of Europe before, except for maybe when I was really little. It would be so far from Britain, and that alone was quite appealing.

"Japan sounds good," I finally said.

"That will be 358 galleons, sir." Even though I was prepared for the price, it was still surprising to spend all that at once. I hadn't ever spent that amount at one time before. I handed over the required amount with help from the woman behind the desk and a handy Hundred Count spell she used to make things go faster. I was certainly glad for the charm on my money bag to keep it light, and the forethought to pull out as much money from Gringotts as I had. "The Portkey is scheduled to leave in thirty-seven minutes. Would you like to wait in our café?"

"Sure, that sounds good," I replied. Sitting in the café, I spent the remaining half-hour nursing a tea and daydreaming about the excitement of finally getting out of Britain. I was going to see all kinds of new things that I had never before imagined! When the time finally came to go to the departure point and prepare for the portkey, I was nearly jumping up and down in excitement. There were only two other wizards that were travelling with me to Japan, but neither seemed like the type who was interested in talking, which might have seemed a miracle considering who I was. The one man was carrying a briefcase while the other had a small travelling trunk. It felt odd to be travelling with nothing but a muggle backpack with a few shirts and a pair of pants, but I shrugged it off and grasped a corner of the book that was the portkey.

The trip itself was nothing less than intense. I had never done well with portkeys, and this one seemed to go on forever. We went around and around, seemingly spinning out of control with no end in sight. There was nothing below our feet to support us, but we just spun on. At one point, I was sure that I was going to get sick, but was able to hold it back. I was regretting the tea that I had only sipped at while I was waiting earlier. The portkey continued to spin the three of us around and around, and all I could see was bits of blue and white swirling around me in a dizzying array of color gradually getting darker.

The landing was jarring, and I barely kept my footing. It was an improvement compared to my previous experiences with Portkeys at least. After landing, I followed the two wizards that I had travelled with out of the courtyard and through the building. What I saw was amazing.

The first thing that caught my attention as I stepped out was that the sky was suddenly dark. It hadn't really registered with me back in the courtyard while I had been nearly sick with dizziness, but I had settled enough to take note now. The difference was startling in its abruptness. I had only just left London, where it was early afternoon. The change felt unreal. Next, I noticed my surroundings. The buildings around me were taller than any that I had ever seen before, covered in large glass windows and lights advertising many different things, some that were in English and others that I couldn't understand. There were people walking everywhere, even at whatever time of night it was. The sounds of the city filled my ears with bells, whistles, and talking that I couldn't comprehend. It was definitely the muggle part of the city, evidenced by the people dressed in muggle clothing and driving cars. I was grateful that I had dressed as a muggle before leaving on this trip, as it let me blend in rather well. Looking around some more, I felt as if I was so small in comparison. Everything was simply overwhelming and new to me. The crowds were larger than I had ever experienced before. Muggles greatly outnumbered wizards and witches, but I had never thought about the difference between countries. Even the London underground wasn't as crowded as this. I soon realized that I had been standing in one place just taking everything in for too long. The wizards that I had followed out were already lost in the crowd, and I had no idea of where I should be going. I decided to simply wing it and try to enjoy myself here, maybe just travel around and experience things, even if it was only in the muggle world. I at least had some muggle pounds with me to get food if I needed any.

I started off choosing a random direction to walk in, realizing that I hadn't even asked what city the Portkey would be taking me to. I felt a little foolish, but wasn't too worried about it. It didn't exactly matter. Japan was Japan, regardless of the city. Walking along, I watched as people passed me walking in either direction at a quick pace. I was likely the slowest person walking along the sidewalk.

Seeing all of the people around me, something struck me as odd. It seemed like nearly everyone looked similar. It was immensely confusing to see. It looked like most people around me all had black hair, usually short. The girls that I saw also dressed so much differently than those in England. Even though the weather was rather chilly, a number of girls walking by me and giggling among themselves were wearing short skirts. The kind of skirts that Professor McGonagall would give a lecture about, I was sure.

As I eventually became bored with the tall buildings and masses of people surrounding me, I began looking for a place to stop at to get lunch, or perhaps a late dinner. I still didn't know what time it was here.

Or where, exactly, here was.

As I continued walking down the sidewalk, I finally started to encounter smaller buildings that looked like they might be restaurants. Finally, I stopped and entered one of them, looking forward to eating. As soon as I stepped in, I realized that this was not the place for me. The flap of cloth on the door prevented me from seeing that the inside looked more like a place to drink and smoke. In fact, so many people inside were smoking that the smell of it had hit me like a wall once I had opened the sliding door. Distractedly, I listened to the workers say something as I opened the door, but I couldn't understand and wasn't paying enough attention. I waved my hand in an attempt to get the smoke away and stepped back out into the sidewalk, slightly embarrassed for leaving just as the people inside had said something to me.

I continued walking down the street, looking for a place that was more like a fast-food restaurant. One place that was brightly colored finally caught my attention. While I couldn't understand the name of the place, which just looked like a bunch of lines that could almost be drawings (すき屋), it had pictures of food in the windows and so I hurried over to what had to be a restaurant. Walking around had increased my appetite quite a bit.

As I walked in, it seemed as if all of the workers looked up at me and said something that I couldn't understand again.

"Irasshiamase!"

"Irasshiamase!"

I smiled in return, but had no idea what they were trying to say to me. Maybe it was just a greeting?

One came over and began talking to me way too fast for me to even follow the sounds. She likely saw the confusion on my face, as she abruptly stopped and started again, but much slower.

"Nan nin desu ka? Hitori desu ka?"

I obviously couldn't understand the words, so I dipped into her mind in hopes of understanding that way. I could tell that the waitress felt slightly nervous, but also rushed to get it over with. Other than those general feelings, I wasn't able to get any more understanding from her mind. It was the first time that my ability had failed me, and without it, I had absolutely no idea how to proceed. The waitress repeated herself again, and I was able to feel her frustration with me. All I could do was shake my head and shrug. I just couldn't understand anything.

"Nihongo ga dekimasu ka? Amerika-jin desu ka?" she said. I finally couldn't bear standing in silence in front of so many people who were looking over in curiosity.

"I'm sorry, do you speak English?" I couldn't believe that I hadn't thought of this before coming here. Of course English wasn't the language here, it was Japanese. Which was bad for me, since I didn't understand one bit of it.

The woman smiled at me and stuck her hand out in a 'wait' gesture, and hurried away. I looked around the restaurant uncomfortably for a while, beginning to regret my decision to just get out of Great Britain. Thankfully, it didn't take long for someone else to come toward me.

As the new woman came up to me, she bowed. "I am sorry. You would like to sit?" I nodded, and was finally guided to a seat.

After sitting and being handed a menu, the waitress pointed out a button at the end of the table.

"If you are ready, press the button." While she had an accent that I had never actually heard before, it was wonderful to see that there where people here that could speak English. The woman quickly bowed again and walked away, leaving me to look at the menu.

I glanced down at the menu with hesitation, afraid that I wouldn't be able to read anything. However, I soon relaxed. While it was in Japanese, there were also pictures all over the menu that I could look at so that I knew what I was ordering. There were mostly pictures of bowls filled with noodles and plates covered in rice and brown sauce. It took a while for me to realize that it was curry. My Aunt used to cook curry every once in a while, mostly when she was busy with other things and didn't want to cook something that required a lot of attention to keep from burning or getting dry. My Aunt never liked eating it, but Dudley had always loved it.

After taking a brief glance at other pictures of fish and rice, I decided on the safe bet: curry. The price of it, however, made me worry. It was 540円. What did the 円 mean? I pushed the button, hoping that the waitress would be able to answer my question. A loud bell sounded throughout the restaurant, which surprised me, but nobody else looked up from their tables, so I assumed it was normal.

The woman from before soon hurried over to my table. "You are ready?"

I shook my head and pointed to the price on the menu. "What is this?" I asked.

"It is Curry," she answered, obviously not understanding my confusion.

"I mean, what is this?" I pointed to the 円 symbol, blocking out the picture of the curry. The woman finally smiled at me in understanding.

"It is yen. Curry is…five hundred…forty yen," she responded, pausing to make sure that she was saying it correctly. "You are from America?"

I shook my head in response to her question. "I'm from England. I don't have any yen with me," I said with a sinking feeling.

"You do not have yen?" she asked to make sure she understood. I shook my head, feeling even worse. How could I get food if I had no money to pay?

The excitement of getting out of England was beginning to wear off quite quickly with the difficulties that I was facing. My waitress walked away and began speaking to someone through a doorway. I couldn't understand any of it, but she was speaking very quickly. It took a minute or two before she returned to me with a cup and handed it to me.

"It is tea," she said with a small smile. "It is..muryou. It is free."

The warm cup felt great in my hand, and it was partially satisfying to drink, although it didn't erase my hunger. I showed the waitress the money that I had with me, but she wouldn't take it.

"You need yen," she said when I showed it to her. "I have the break soon. Tokyo Station is close." With that, the waitress walked away to attend to another table. I looked around and realized that there weren't many customers in the restaurant at this time. It took no longer than five minutes before the waitress came back.

"We will go to Tokyo Station," she informed me with a smile, encouraging me to get up in order to follow her.

We exited the restaurant and turned to the left, walking until the intersection, where we turned left again. Once there, she pointed straight ahead and said "Tokyo Station is ahead."

It took a little bit of walking, but I was soon able to see the long building lit up by many street lights. There were still a number of people walking around the area, even though the sun had long set. There were many Taxis parked in front of the place in one long line, waiting for customers to approach them. The Japanese woman leading me began to walk faster.

"The Station will close soon. We must hurry."

I followed quickly after her, praying to make it in time. It was nearly a twenty minute walk at quite a quick pace all the way through the station, weaving between the many people going about their business. When we finally made it, it was only ten minutes until 10:30, which was when the exchange would close. I breathed a sigh of relief as I approached the counter to exchange my money.

All I had to do was give them all of the muggle money that I had, which amounted to 20 pounds, and they gave me almost 3,400 yen. The yen looked so different from the money that I was used to using, and it was odd to think of carrying such a large number around, even though it wasn't actually worth what it sounded.

I profusely thanked the woman who had guided me as she left to return to work, or wherever she was headed. The first thing that I did with the money that I had was buy a couple of sandwiches from a convenience store called Family Mart. They had some really odd choices, but I stuck with ham sandwiches and milk. The entire experience left me tired, but I still had no place to stay, so I headed back outside. It was on my way out that I finally saw something out of the ordinary. One person seemed to simply appear out of a sign that, according to the picture on it, must have meant 'stop' or something similar. The words on it '立ち入り禁止' meant nothing to me.

I strolled over toward a wall to wait around and watch the sign to see if it happened again, and I wasn't disappointed. Two or three minutes later, I saw someone exit the sign again. After seeing that, I walked up to the sign to see if I could enter. Nothing happened when I leaned against the sign, so I hid my wand in my sleeve and tried pressing the wand at various points of the sign. Nothing was working, and I really just wanted to find a place to rest. Finding a place to sleep in the muggle part of Japan wouldn't work, especially since I was only left with less than the equivalent to 20 pounds.

The next person to exit the sign was a woman with long black hair and small, thin glasses perched on her nose. The serious look on her face didn't exactly scream 'welcome', but I was becoming desperate. I stepped up to her, hoping that she understood English.

"Excuse me. I can't seem to find the way in. Could you help me?" The woman looked at me with her sharp eyes, and then spoke in a kinder, softer voice than I had expected.

"I am sorry, my English.. Amari dekimasen ne. chotto matte kudasai ne?" With that, she raised her right hand up to just above her shoulder and started whispering something. Her left hand went to her throat and just a tap later, she smiled at me again.

"What were you saying, young man?" she asked me.

I couldn't help but stare at her in surprise. Not only was her English now perfect, with only an accent, but she had used whatever spell with no wand at all. The woman's continued attention spurred me to ask what I had wanted to before.

"I..er..I'm not quite familiar with the area. How do I enter the…the magical area?" I finally asked.

"Ah! I understand. I am sorry, this is the exit only. The entrance is beside the restrooms, through the other sign." Instead of simply pointing out the area, the witch began to lead me to the correct place. I brushed my leg against something small while walking next to the woman, but when I looked, whatever it had been was nowhere in sight. Probably a child wandering to far from his mother. I trotted to catch back up.

"Here it is! This is the sign that you walk through. Try to remember that, and good luck!" she finally said, bowing once before heading back the way she had come.

"Thank you so much!" I exclaimed before she could get too far away. It struck me for a moment that I had never even asked her name, but it was far too late now, and I was too excited at the prospect of finally seeing the magical side of Japan. With that thought, I glanced around to make sure no one was looking, and then I stepped through.

…

…

…

**Question:**

Do you have any guesses about how the woman used magic?

**Notes:**

Remember, before you start sending flames about how Harry didn't plan well, didn't have the right money, and didn't even know the language or anything to help him translate it: Harry didn't exactly plan anything. He jumped at the chance to travel without thinking things through. It was all a mistake, with only the intent to experience something new. He is a near-child, rebelling against unfairness without true purpose. He is meant to learn from this experience, not to begin his independence knowing exactly what to do and how to plan things well. He hasn't exactly shown an ability to plan well in early canon, so why would he now? He's had no real chance to grow and gain experience with these types of things while depending on others like Hermione.

I must admit, the hardest part of writing this chapter was the Japanese woman's conversation in English. Nearly all Japanese high school students learn English, but not all can speak it. Some never even try. Others might speak next to perfectly, with only a few mistakes here and there. However, it always seemed like a majority, even in Tokyo where English is more common due to international travel, would only use certain sentence structures even if their level of proficiency was quite high. Our polite greetings and questions in English (_would you like_…?, _Is there anything I can get you_?, etc.) were very rare. Also, writing Japanese in roman letters is something that I generally dislike, but it would certainly not make much sense if I wrote the Japanese that Harry was hearing in Japanese letters. Since I'm writing from his perception, he would only hear the sounds, while they wouldn't make sense; they would still just be sounds to him.

The problem is that, in some ways it is very difficult to write the sounds using roman letters, and there are different ways of doing it that actually require an explanation of Japanese sound in order to be understood. Only writing would be in Japanese letters. So, Harry would see signs such as '**あぶない！この中に入ってはいけません**。' But if someone were to say it, he would hear "abunai! Kono naka ni haitte wa ikemasen."

Edit (9/20/14)- Small Japanese Romaji spelling correction.


	14. Communication

And this chapter's story suggestion is** Had I Known** by **kayly silverstorm.** It is a very interesting story following Snape and Harry well after the defeat of Voldemort. AU. I suppose that I shouldn't give a story suggestion for each chapter I post, as I might run out unfortunately quickly.

How many people are excited to see what _Japan's_ magical side is like? This was a long time in coming.

**On the Wrong Side of Sanity**

**Chapter 13: Communication**

_The world is a book,_

_and those who do not travel read only a page._

_-Saint Augustine_

One of the first things that I noticed as I entered the magical side of Japan was that everyone was dressed much differently than witches and wizards in England. Some were wearing what was clearly muggle clothing, the kind that actually fit in, and some of it was quite nice. A few witches walked past me in suit skirts. A number of witches were wearing something that had a white top with really long sleeves and a red flowing bottom. The shape wasn't too dissimilar to what we would wear in England, but the bottoms that the Japanese witches were wearing weren't like robes. They were actually separated a bit like pants, just much more loose. I had become so used to robes that these new outfits were startling. In fact, I could remember seeing pictures of these outfits before while in school.

_Muggle _school.

How could I have seen something that Japanese witches wore in _muggle _school? I was so focused on that one question that it took me some time to notice that just about every person had an animal walking with them or perched on their shoulders. Most of them were foxes, but some were carrying snakes. Snakes! They obviously weren't considered evil here like they were in Hogwarts, and seemingly all of magical Britain.

Not all of the people walking around had animals with them, but most of those who didn't have one looked at least slightly less than human. Or perhaps they had simply had a magical accident that gave them terrifyingly long necks. Or sometimes tails…

What was going _on _here?

About the only thing that I recognized was the only obviously goblin-made building. It could have almost been a replica of Gringotts. I couldn't help but sigh in relief as I saw it. Walking through the crowd of people, I had to wonder if it was more normal for witches and wizards in Japan to wear muggle clothing. During the many times that I had been in magical sections of Britain, I had never seen so many magicals dressed in that style. I could only compare it to the Quidditch Cup, except people here knew how to dress like regular people and so there were no men unfortunately dressed in women's nightclothes.

As I reached the bank and stepped inside, I saw goblins that looked exactly what I was used to in Diagon Alley. Similar disregard for all non-goblins and everything. When I finally reached the front of the admittedly short line I just about hit my head on the wall beside me. I still couldn't speak Japanese, so how the hell was I going to talk to them? The goblin in front of me must have seen my panic, because he immediately spoke in English. Apparently, my nationality was obvious to him. Not sure if that was a good or bad thing.

"English?"

"Oh, yeah," was my intelligent reply.

"Name?" The goblin's questions couldn't be made shorter even if he tried.

"Harry Potter," I said, wondering how getting money from here could work if I ran out. Would I have to stop by Britain every time I needed more money?

"You don't have a vault in Japan." It wasn't really a question, but it felt like one.

"I, uh, live in England. But, well, I just need to convert some money into yen. Also, is there a place to stay nearby?" I asked because I was finally feeling the effects of travelling and the stress from trying to navigate my way into Magical Japan. The time difference meant that it was still pretty early for me to get tired, but what else could I do here during the late night anyway?

"How much?" the goblin asked, ignoring my question.

I placed ten galleons on the counter in front of me, which the goblin quickly took and then started counting out both paper money and coins. When I finally walked out of the bank, I was proudly carrying a little over 6,500 yen.

Since the goblin had never answered my question about a place to stay for the night, I began walking around the area that had already begun to clear out because the shops were finally closing. It looked like only a couple of street peddlers were still out, and they seemed more interested in conversing with each other than selling their wares. I walked over to them quickly, hoping that they would be able to point me in the direction of a place where I could stay the night. A short while later, after much confusion and frustration, I was still wandering around looking for anyone who could speak English or at least perform whatever magic it was to translate. Finally I caught up to an older man with a small fox sitting on his shoulder who turned to look at me when I called out.

"Excuse me! I'm trying to find a place to sleep for the night. Can you help me?" I said, slightly out of breath for jogging up to him.

"Help?" he asked, putting his left hand to his shoulder to lightly touch his pet. I wondered if he worried that it would fall off…or bite me. That thought made me lean away, just slightly.

"Yeah," I said, relieved that he could apparently understand me. "I need to find a place to stay."

The man turned to look at his pet, and then began whispering to himself. I couldn't hear any of what he was saying, but it didn't inspire confidence. A moment later he looked back at me. "You need help with something?"

I wanted to give him a weird look, since I had just explained what I needed, but I was able to keep it in. No need to push away my only help. "Yeah. I'm trying to find a place to spend the night, but I don't know this area. Could you help me? Maybe tell me the name of a hotel or something nearby?" I thought about just slipping into his mind to find the information that I wanted, but thought better of it. It hadn't exactly helped me much with previous people in this country.

The man smiled and turned to look further down the alley. "That is a hotel. It is called Ryokan."

"Ryokan?" I echoed.

"Yes, it means hotel. Do you want me to take you?" The man was smiling, and I was sorely tempted since I knew he could speak English, but I felt bad about holding him up so late at night.

"I should be ok, thank you."

The man nodded and walked away as I started towards the hotel. It didn't look much different than many of the other buildings around it other than all of the windows that it had. The entryway looked warm, with brown and green hues, a small sitting area, and a desk for checking in and out. I walked in and soon stood in front of a young…man? His eyes were…off. Close together and golden hued, but that wasn't the biggest tell. It was his tail, slowly twitching behind him, that caught my eye the fastest and indicated that he might not be a human.

"…Hello?" I asked a bit uncertainly.

"Ah, English. Welcome to the ryokan. Will you want a room?"

"Yes, please." I said, curious about the man standing in front of me, but more interested about getting a room and getting some sleep. "How much would it be for, um, two nights?"

"It would be five galleons, sir." He replied with a grin that showed far too many teeth. I nodded and handed over the money with a careful eye on this person who looked like they could be dangerous. The man looked at a paper and then frowned a little. "We are a little full; there are no western-style rooms left. I hope a Japanese style room will be fine."

I shrugged and said it didn't bother me. I didn't know what any of that meant anyway. What was Japanese style?

I was soon shown to a room and given the key, as I walked in and dropped my small pack on the floor in relief, I noticed that there wasn't a bed. Anywhere. I turned around and went back to the hallway in order to ask about it, but the man was already gone. Did I have to sleep on the floor? I took a minute to look around at the room, searching for where a bed might be hidden while seriously considering simply laying down and trying to get some sleep. I can't say that didn't at least sound somewhat appealing. Instead, I walked toward a wall and opened what seemed to be a closet. Jackpot!

Inside, there were a few different things folded up and neatly stacked. I began pulling everything out and throwing them on the floor, starting with a pillow. As I looked to my mess on the floor, I could see that there was everything I needed, including a heavier blanket than I might actually require. I quickly set about spreading a futon mattress out on the floor and climbed on, dragging a lighter blanket and my pillow with me. What seemed like minutes later, I was soundly asleep.

…

I woke up to light shining in my face, and a somewhat uncomfortable back. I opened my eyes and stared around me, wondering what I was doing on the floor for a bit before having my memories come back to me of the previous night. I stared in bemusement at my little bed. I never thought I would sleep on the floor again, not after finally getting my own room with the Dursleys'. I was surprised that I had slept as well as I had. I climbed back out of the small 'nest' of blankets I had made and sat up with a stretch. After getting some rest, I felt much more alert and more inclined to study my surroundings than I had earlier.

The floor was different from anything I had seen before, looking more like little mats about the size of a person all pressed tightly together. I couldn't quite tell what they were made out of, as I had never seen it before. The entire room had a slightly stale grassy smell that I had never experienced before inside a building. There wasn't much to the room; no T.V. like my cousin always gushed about, no large closets or coffee tables either. In fact, I just realized that there was no wash closet inside the room and wondered for a moment where I had to go in order to take care of business. I shrugged to myself and mentally reminded myself that I could always ask the man at the front desk. After half-heartedly folding my bedding back up and stuffing it in a corner, I headed out with my bag over my shoulder in order to locate the restrooms, showers, and to hopefully find something to cure my hunger.

I met the same man as the night before on the first floor. I asked him about a restroom and shower, all while staring at his face. I had a hard time focusing on his words. There was something very different about his face today, like it was kinder; less dangerous. He had a smile to his eyes that I certainly didn't think I saw last night. Perhaps he had needed some rest himself.

"I'm sorry, what did you say again?" I asked, giving up on trying to understand why he seemed so different.

"The restrooms and bathrooms are right this way," he said while turning around to guide me to them. I nearly stumbled when I saw that he had no tail this morning. Had I been hallucinating last night?

"We have a communal showering area here, separated by gender, of course. But if you would prefer, we also have two separate showers for guests who do not feel comfortable in the baths. Over there are the toilets. Is there anything else you need?" he finished, looking at me to make sure that I was following along with everything.

"Ah...yes. Is there a place where I can get food?" I asked as my stomach growled.

"We have traditional Japanese breakfast in the room through that door," he responded quickly. I thanked him and headed to the restroom and showers, taking care to avoid the communal area. Merlin knows who could already be in there. _ I_ certainly didn't want to walk around starkers in front of everyone.

When I was finished cleaning myself up, I walked into the room where the man, whose name I still didn't know, had shown me before. I quickly got a plate and served myself a lot of different foods that looked like they had nothing to do with breakfast. Oh well. I was hungry. After eating a ball of oddly flavored rice, some kind of soup, as well as some awfully sour vegetable rather clumsily with a pair of chopsticks, I headed back to the entrance intending to ask for some sort of map for travelers. There behind the desk was the same man as always, this time once more looking rather dangerous and wild. I narrowed my eyes at him. I was frustrated enough with my own doubt about my sanity that I gave up being polite. No longer wanting to hold back my ability out of consideration for privacy, I let my magic slip forward and into his mind to find out what was going on. My suspicion of him being dangerous was a strong deciding factor.

When my mind met his it was…awful. A maelstrom of confusion, foreign magic and incomprehensible thoughts; I was blindsided by the difference. A headache, with a side of dizziness, assaulted me instantaneously. Not only that, but apparently my intrusion was noticed, indicated by the rage in the man's eyes and the snarl on his lips. That had never happened before.

The man growled at me, actually _growled_. His hand came up like he would strangle me, then went to the counter instead and _made gouges in the wood_. That was quite enough to make me nervous. He growled again, with no words, and set himself as if he was going to tackle me. I was more than worried violence would break out for my error. The next thing I noticed, just as someone else was running into the entryway, was that the man's eyes had turned golden and his ears had disappeared from the side of his head…and reappeared on top as…dog ears?

"Yamete! Yamete! Nani wo shiteiru!?" a young man called. I tried to see the man that had come up beside me and was calling to the other. He looked…almost exactly the same. I wanted to stare at him, but I was too afraid of turning away from his growling twin in front of me. Finally the growling stopped, and there was a very rapid conversation between the two in Japanese. I couldn't understand a whit of it.

The newcomer turned to me with a scowl. "Why do you assault him?" he asked angrily. I felt a bit of shame.

"I uh, I rather thought he was dangerous. That, and it seemed to me that there were two different people. I'm sorry." I gave as my rather poor excuse and apology.

"People?" The newcomer gave me a confused look, and I wondered if he just didn't know the word. "I am Nishimoto Keiji. This is my bonded fox, Hisato."

"Bonded fox?" I echoed in confusion.

"Yes. Hisato-chan, katachi wo kawari nasai." I watched before my eyes as the strange man morphed into a small fox. A small fox that was still somehow glaring at me. "I asked Hisato to take my form and cover the desk for me. I had to attend to a customer. Why did you attack his mind?"

"I didn't attack it!" I exclaimed. His slight scowl spurred me to continue. "I just wanted to find out what was going on. It was a peek into his mind to make sure there wasn't anything…dangerous going on." The little fox just growled at me again.

"Maybe it is best if you go now." Keiji said, with lingering anger in his voice. I simply nodded and stiffly walked toward the exit, quickly grabbing what looked like a map on the way out. I wanted out of the awkward conversation probably as much as he did anyway. Still, I hoped that they weren't kicking me out completely.

I had already paid for a second night.

…

…

…

Terrible, terrible writer's block along with a life that doesn't seem to want to slow down. Even with my ideas planned out a bit, it's still not enough to spur my brain into laying things out nicely on paper (or online). Sorry!

I thought about writing a bit more before ending this chapter, but this seemed as good a place to stop as any. Thankfully I already have the next few chapters all planned out, just not completely written out yet.


	15. Of Adventures and Ruffled Feathers

Looks like I'm going to give this chapter suggestion a miss. Next time, then. This chapter will be relatively calm, almost like an interlude to the main plot while I work on Harry's knowledge of himself and the world around him.

I see I've been rather remiss in including my disclaimers. So…I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe, which belongs to J.K. Rowling. I make absolutely no money from these stories.

**LASTLY**, I want to point out that I can't get better as a writer if not one person bothers to give their input in the story. From what might be wrong, or boring, or confusing to things that you might like and want to see _more_ of. This seems to be a constant problem on FFN, where no one wants to bother with reviews. I know this almost-rant probably won't help anything, but I'll try anyway. There are so many amateur writers on this website, and I'm fairly certain that all of them want to hear input from their readers in order to become better. I see so many writers simply begging for reviews, yet so few actually do it. I'll admit, even I am guilty of it at times, when I have to force myself to go back and leave a review. Whether it's my story or someone else's, please go leave a review for someone today.

…

**On the Wrong Side of Sanity**

**Chapter 14: Of Adventures and Ruffled Feathers**

_A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing._

_-George Bernard Shaw_

I stepped out of the ryokan and glanced at the map. After a moment, I realized that it was a map for the station and surrounding areas that I had left behind when I entered the magical side of the city. Did they have a map for the magical side? I spared a look behind me, but then thought better of returning to ask for a different map.

They might need an hour or ten to calm down first.

In that case, I could either ask around again or put off my exploration of the magical side until later. Later honestly sounded better right now.

Another stop at the Japanese Gringotts was necessary since I had used nearly all of my money paying for the hotel. It took a slightly more patient teller (for a goblin, anyway), a short wait, and apparently contact between the different branches of Gringotts, but I was able to remotely remove money from my vault, for a fee, of course. Still, the fact that it was possible at all was amazing to me. I took out plenty more than I thought I needed, hoping not to have to come back again.

I began heading back toward the 'entrance' of the magical side, hoping that I could easily find my way back into the non-magical side of the area. As I approached the same place that I entered from, I noticed a group of other people heading to a slightly different area, and then step through what was a doorway that wasn't attached to anything. It was just standing alone, not too far from a wall. Instead of appearing on the other side of the door, however, everyone that entered simply disappeared from sight.

Well, that was probably my exit, so I got into the fast moving line to exit, and soon found myself back in the station among all of the muggles.

With a smile, I headed through the crowd and outside, thanking my lucky stars that the map that I was holding wasn't only in Japanese.

The first thing on my mind was getting out to see whatever interesting things there was to see in Tokyo. Since I had already eaten breakfast, I ignored the many shops that were inside the train station and walked over to a large map to help me figure out exactly where I was in the station, as well as try to figure out where it was that I wanted to go. I was able to recall a couple of interesting places that I had heard of that were famous in Tokyo, such as Tokyo Tower, but I wasn't sure of how to get there. I took plenty of time consulting the maps and tourist information, but eventually I was able to plan out my route. It was times like these that I really wished that I had Hermione around.

I made my way through the station among hundreds of other people rushing every which way. It was a little overwhelming, but eventually I made it to the ticketing area, where I had to use a machine to buy my tickets. It only took a few tries before I was on my way toward the subways, and a short wait later I hopped on the Nijubashimae line feeling both nervous and excited. It felt like making it on my own to the Tokyo Tower would be a victory for my independence, but my confidence was somewhat undermined by the sheer unfamiliarity of the words that I had to keep an eye out for in order to find the correct stops. I knew from planning out my trip earlier that I'd have to transfer trains twice, and even when I got there, I'd have to walk a bit. Hermione would probably be so proud, I thought with a fond smile. Ron, of course, would simply scoff.

I tried desperately keeping an eye out for the correct stop, but inevitably, my eyes wandered around me. As my luck would have it, I didn't notice my stop until the doors had closed and the train had started moving again. Getting out at the next stop and going back again got me back on track, but wore on my nerves a bit. The stress still hadn't quite left my body as I pulled away from Tameike-sanno station on the Namboku line. Even just thinking them, the foreign words felt like a mouthful. I kept a much sharper eye out for my next stop at Azabu-juban station in order to catch the Oedo line to my final destination at Akabanebashi station, though it wasn't as difficult seeing as I only had one stop in between. Still, it was with some relief that I stepped out of the station with only a short walk ahead of me to the tower.

I felt victorious over the metro, and that was something. The walk to Tokyo Tower was short and well worth the frustration of the underground. It rose up impossibly high in front of me, towering over multi-story buildings. The orange color of the beams that it was built with made it stand out even more. The streets around me were filled with people going from shop to shop, and occasionally kids playing on the sidewalks. I nearly walked into a couple shops that felt different than the others on my way to the tower before talking myself out of it. I just didn't feel like making any stops before I reached my destination, especially now that it was in view. I even stopped myself from following after a dog that I could have sworn had a human face. I was probably just tired. When I finally reached the tower, I couldn't help but imagine how exciting it would be to fly around and through it on my firebolt with a grin.

Making my way up the tower took only 900 yen and the patience to wade through other tourists. The view was awesome, although it didn't inspire the same thrill as riding a broom. Still, looking straight down the tower through a window in the floor was enough to bring a smile to my face. I didn't spend much time in the tower due to the sheer number of other people touring the place. The crowding was really starting to get to me as I made my way back to Tokyo Station in order to return to the magical side of the city. While seeing something so famous in the muggle world was satisfying, I couldn't help but think that seeing more of the magical side of things would be more exciting. Maybe the more natural side of Tokyo would be better. A short stop at a shop in Tokyo Station, where I could just point at a picture of what I wanted and avoid issues with the language, satisfied my hunger before I entered the magical side once more.

I felt like a touring pro.

It was around 3 in the afternoon, with the sun well past its midpoint, leaving the city to become cooler. The coat that I had brought with me no longer really felt like it was keeping me warm, so I finally took out my wand. It had been so very long since I'd last used it; I was almost nervous, which was probably silly, but it didn't feel too silly to wait until I was back in the magical areas before finally trying a spell. It took long much longer than I expected to come up with a charm that would suit my needs, making me worry for a moment that I'd forgotten how to use magic. Had it really been so long since I'd last used it?

Oh, well yes.

Especially non-violent magic.

Finally, the correct spell came to me, and with excitement burning through my veins, I cast my first spell in years while trying to cast my worries about what Dumbledore had indicated about possible damage out of my mind.

"Lacarnum concalefacie!"

It was odd; wonderful, exhilarating, and yet odd.

My coat warmed up incredibly fast, and got hot enough to make me begin to sweat for a moment before finally going down to a more comfortable temperature. Feeling the magic flowing through me was a relief. It wasn't damaged like I had been worried about. It just felt odd while I was using it. Odd, but undamaged; it was something that I could certainly live with, especially considering how concerned I had been that I would be unable to use my magic at all. I shrugged the odd feeling off. It was likely only because it had been so long since I had actually used wand magic. I mean, I even felt like my wand was unwieldy while handling it, though I was sure I'd get used to it again.

I turned my attention once again to the magical part of Japan that surrounded me. I was determined to figure out all of the odd-looking…people that walked around out of muggle view. I considered going up and asking someone, but quickly threw that idea out. Even if there wasn't a language problem with most anyone I could think of asking, it would probably get me in trouble if I just went up to some stranger and asked them what they were. Also, I knew from previous experience that it wouldn't be a good idea to peak in any minds to find out. I had to take a second to wonder if I should look for somewhere else to stay for the night before shaking my head. I'd figure things out if it came to that.

I strolled down the lane, glancing from store to store while trying not to stare at the people sporting the ridiculously long necks too much. Finally, I came across a book shop. With a defeated shake of my head for how I was acting more and more like Hermione, I walked in to see if I could find a book that would answer my questions.

The book store was like most that I had visited before; cozy-looking, quiet, and smelling a bit dusty. Ron would have hated it. The shop was either smaller than I was used to seeing, or it was packed with more books and book cases than others. Each row of books felt like an isolated area, far away from any crowded streets. It made me feel slightly uneasy and claustrophobic. At least it wasn't damp and windy.

Most of the books in the small shop were in, what I assumed was, Japanese. There was, however, a section of foreign books tucked away in a cool corner of the shop. One other person was perusing the books there with me, so I made an attempt at conversation. I guess I felt a bit lonely.

"Are you visiting the area?" I asked.

The man, who had light brown hair and was dressed in a muggle suit turned to look at me in surprise, as if he hadn't realized I was there.

"Ah, no, actually. I live here. Can't say that there are many foreigners that do, though," he said with a small grin. His accent wasn't British, so I assumed that he was from somewhere in America. "You're a tourist, then?"

I almost wanted to blush at how obvious it probably was. "Yeah, from England."

"Really?" he asked, sounding much more surprised than he should. "I thought you sounded British, but we see so few magicals from there." That wasn't what I expected.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, British magicals have a tendency to stay in Britain, or at least Europe, even though magical Japan has finally let go of a lot of its isolationist ideas. Honestly, it seems like you guys have separated yourselves from the world, really." For a second, I was slightly insulted, but I let it go. He was probably right, since during all of my time in Hogwarts we hadn't actually been taught anything about other magical communities. The most I knew was from the other two magical schools coming to compete in the tournament.

"Can I ask you something?" I began, now hoping I'd have someone who could help me avoid having to search through tons of books to figure things out. I really wasn't that bookish.

"Sure," he responded amicably.

"Well, two things, actually. Er, there are some…people…that I've seen walking around the magical side. They don't exactly look, well, human." I was really just praying that my question wasn't insulting. Getting kicked out of a book store would be embarrassing.

The man let out a small laugh in response.

"Well, I suppose they wouldn't," he laughed. "I'm surprised that you didn't look these kinds of things up before visiting a different country." I had to fight my embarrassment from showing while the man turned away from me and selected a book.

"Well," he continued when his mirth lessened, "this book should help you a bit. I'll go ahead and let you know that they _aren't _human, and that there are times when you might have to watch yourself, although most that you'll see out there right now aren't too dangerous. Just don't go ruffling any feathers." He laughed at his own joke, though I couldn't really understand what it was.

The book that he handed me was fairly thick, and promised a lot of reading ahead. Its cover was a bright red with black lettering, labelling it 'The Big Book of Japanese Magical Races'. I wasn't excited about the idea of having to read the entire book, but it probably wouldn't be a bad plan.

"So, what is this second question of yours?" the man asked with a grin, as if he knew that I had no desire to read a whole book.

"Well, I had noticed that some of the people were wearing a uniform in the magical section." I had to pause in order to think through the question that I wanted answered. "Well, it's a red and white uniform, and I swear that I've seen them before, when I was still attending _muggle_ school." It wasn't really a question, but I was sure that he'd understand what I was asking.

"Do you mean the Shrine Maidens?" I could only shrug in response.

"The Shrine Maidens, those witches that you see wearing a flowing red and white uniform, work in the _non-magical_ sections of Japan. They tend to the shrines and temples, taking care of them and keeping the areas safe for everyone. Many of them excel in the creation of herbal remedies for both magical and non-magical maladies." I had to admit to my relief that the American wizard answered my question instead of handing me another book.

"So, these Shrine Maidens practice magic in front of muggles?" I asked. The man frowned at me for a second before answering.

"It is different here than in your country. The magical and non-magical aspects of Japan are more closely linked here. We do not draw such a clear separation. We keep some magical creatures away from non-magicals because they would be unable to defend themselves from the danger. Some hide away because of a tendency towards isolation and others because of past difficulty, such as the Rokurokubi. You can read about the differences in that book," he explained while pointing at the red book that I now held. "Now," he continued, drawing a book from the shelf beside him, "I must get going. Please have a safe trip. Don't forget to read that book. It will be very helpful." With that last suggestion, the man left to pay for his own book.

I took a few more moments browsing the books in the English section of the store, slightly curious about the cultural differences between magical Britain and magical Japan. Still, I wasn't so interested as to jump into serious research like Hermione might, so I soon left the shop with my newly purchased book loosely held beside me. Once more outside, I looked around at the beings walking the streets, wondering which were the Rokurokubi. I wasn't really in the mood to sit down and read, but it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to at least figure out the beings that surrounded me. I found a restaurant, ordered some tea and a light meal (Merlin I loved picture menus) and cracked open the book.

With the index, it really wasn't difficult to find the section on Rokurokubi at all. They were the ones with the ridiculously long necks, and weren't any more dangerous than humans. I decided to look through for the other ones that I had seen: the ones with tails. This was a bit more difficult, since I didn't know what they were called. Still, since each section had a picture of the magical races that it talked about, I was able to flip through the book and search through the pictures to find out what other race walked among magicals in Japan. There were a number of beings that had tails, but I finally found a fairly similar picture a bit before the halfway point of the book. They were known as Bake-danuki, and they were shapeshifters. After reading a little more about them, I decided to try to keep my distance, since they sounded a bit like the Weasley twins.

Now that I had finally sated my curiosity, I was up for one more adventure. The other famous part of Tokyo that I knew of was Mt. Fuji. However, that was definitely on the muggle side of Japan, and I had no wish to go back through muggle transportation again. I took a moment to wonder if they had magical transportation to the mountain. There would be no harm in looking, at least. With that thought, I was eventually able to shrink my book and stuff it into a pocket.

It took nearly thirty minutes of walking around the magical section before I came across what was obviously a travel shop. The pictures displayed of varying activities such as seeing the Japanese dragons, or flying with a human-eagle creature. I wandered inside to check out their transportation options.

"Excuse me, how could I get to Mount Fuji?" I asked as soon as I came up to the help desk. The girl sitting behind the desk took a second to stare at me before whispering something to herself. What was it with people here talking to themselves?

"What is it you wanted?" she asked. I held back a sigh.

"I want to go to Mount Fuji."

"Alright sir. A one day trip with a portkey will cost 10,000 yen. You should know that it is off season for the climb, and that it is more dangerous at this time. If you use magic to help you, please be certain that it is not noticed by any non-magicals that may be on the mountain. There is a portkey for tomorrow morning," she responded. My eyes widened for a moment at the price, but I shrugged it off. That was nothing compared to what it cost to take the portkey from Britain, I supposed. I agreed to the price, paid up and was handed a ticket with instructions to return tomorrow at seven in the morning. I cringed at the time that I'd likely have to wake up. With that in mind, I finally made my way back towards my hotel, feeling slightly twitchy as I approached the entrance.

I probably shouldn't have worried so much. I certainly wasn't warmly greeted, but at least I wasn't chased from the building for my earlier indiscretion. Once back in my room, I decided to go ahead and turn in so I was awake for the early morning. Lying there in the mattress on the floor and staring up at the ceiling, I was only slightly uneasy about sleeping in a building where the owner was likely still irritated with me. Still, I nodded off without issue.

* * *

><p>Well, my life sucked.<p>

I was absolutely, awfully certain that my life sucked.

I couldn't help but think how fate had to be against me as I dashed from place to place, trying my very best to remain unnoticed, and probably failing. My heart was pounding in my chest, adrenaline was rushing through my veins, and I was _still _trying to figure out how it all went wrong. What had I done? I ducked behind another bus stop shelter while thinking back over the morning.

…

I had woken up just after six in the morning, so I rushed through getting dressed and washed up in order to have the time to sit down and eat a breakfast. I left behind items that would be cumbersome for my explorations of Mount Fuji when I left with fifteen minutes to spare. The short walk back to the tourism shop was quite cool in the morning air, and even with the relatively early time, the streets were filled with people. The brisk walk with the sun in my eyes and the cold winter wind in my face was what finally finished the job of waking me.

I reached the shop soon after, likely only with five or less minutes to spare before the portkey left. I'd be keeping it with me for the day, so I only needed to make sure that I didn't lose it and that I wasn't in an area that was obvious to muggles when it was time to go back. Seeing as I would be on a mountain, I couldn't help but assume that it wouldn't be much of an issue.

When the portkey activated, I was thrown through space and onto the beginning of the path up Mount Fuji. The disorientation took a moment or three to wear off, but I used the time to sit up against a nearby tree and view the surrounding wooded area. It was breathtaking, and infinitely more to my tastes than the manmade Tokyo Tower. I realized that I was a little off of the path as the dizziness faded, which confused me for a moment, before I noticed other hikers trudging up the path towards the mountain. It was a little hard to believe that so many people climbed the mountain each day that touring companies like the one I used had to offset their portkeys even at seven in the morning.

I finally got up and made my way over to the path once the other hikers got ahead of me, and I began making my slow way up the mountain path at a sedate walk. A glance behind me gave me the view of what must have been a shrine. I wondered for a few minutes over whether or not there were other magicals there tending to it before I let it go and focus on the walk. I had felt absolutely no hurry to get anywhere, and it felt wonderful. The morning dew dusted everything around me, giving it all an unnatural shine. The sun sparkled on the dew, blinding me with its brilliance when it hit my eyes, although I didn't mind it too much. The trek was made more comfortable with the application of a heating charm to my coat.

I spent hours wandering the path, it seemed. I felt calmer than I could ever remember having felt before, and I never wanted to let that feeling go. It was an almost magical feeling.

Eventually, something else caught my interest as I climbed the path steps. It was somewhat difficult to see, but there was movement out off of the path and deeper into the surrounding forest. It looked like something that was quite large and darkly colored, but I couldn't get a good glimpse of it. With my wand in my hand, a glance around me to make sure that there weren't any muggles around to notice, and the confidence that I'd be able to deal with pretty much anything out there, I headed between the trees and stomped my way through a wall of vegetation. Once off of the path and far enough away to have lost easy sight of it, I paused and took a moment to look around me. This forest was nothing like the Forbidden Forest of Hogwarts. For one, it didn't have the oppressive feeling of heavy magic pressing down on any who enter. This forest felt much lighter, much more open, and certainly much brighter with the trees spaced slightly further apart. More movement in the woods and I was off again on my little adventure.

Deeper into the dense of trees, the feeling of the forest changed a little. It felt a little more creepy and less welcoming, though I shrugged off the feeling. I had my wand, so I'd be fine.

I paused once more, trying to keep still and quiet in order to find whatever it was that I had noticed earlier. Nothing was moving now and the bit of mud around me didn't show any tracks that I could follow, so I continued further in, not quite ready to give up yet. Less than a minute later of walking, I was hit hard in the head by something no bigger than a pebble. It stung badly and made me jump and spin around, trying to find where the danger came from. Another hit my shoulder, and yet another struck my back. Soon there were more and more stinging hits, and I dashed forward to try to take cover behind a tree. It helped, but only because, as I noticed a second later, it was hail that was assaulting me and the tree provided some cover. This odd hailstorm certainly took me by surprise, and it wasn't something that I wanted to trudge through, but some pieces were still getting through to me and I had no wish to wait it out.

As I turned in a circle, hoping to remember which way led back to the path while surrounded by trees that looked exactly the same on every side, I huffed in annoyance and simply chose a direction that I hoped would lead me where I wanted to go. My peaceful mountainside stroll was quite ruined now.

I took a few steps out from under my sheltering tree, and it felt like the storm got even worse and some wind picked up. And then, almost right in front of me appeared a really, really odd-looking man. It made me jump and scream out a bit, though I'd never admit it to anyone. I jumped back and pointed my wand at the man in case he was an enemy.

It rather seemed like it, with the incredible scowl on his face.

I took some time to look him over when he didn't immediately attack me. His face was, well, red. A deep dark red that would look more right on a ripe apple, no joke. And his nose…

A snort slipped out as I made a bad attempt at not outright laughing at the image in front of me. The nose on the man's intensely red face was nearly half as long as his arm. I guffawed, and then things changed.

Wings that I hadn't noticed before were raised up to their fullest extent as the face contorted into something much more birdlike, with a beak sharp enough to slice a man up. I had a moment to wonder if there was such thing as a male Veela before I was thrown into the air in an incredibly strong gust of wind; twirling around and being slapped by the wind from every direction, I was out of control. It took over a minute of trying to figure out what was going on and trying to keep myself from getting sick before I finally came to an abrupt halt.

It was jarring, to say the least.

I glanced around me, no longer surrounded by trees. Instead, there were once more tall buildings everywhere with the rush of people passing me by and giving me a wide berth. Also, it was inexplicably colder than it was before. A small gust of wind caused me to glance down at myself, and my eyes must have gone comically wide.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Where the _**hell**_ were my clothes?

* * *

><p>…and now here I was, running from hiding spot to hiding spot, shivering in misery with my wand clutched desperately in my hand. It was the only thing to have managed the journey with me, clutched tightly in my hand as it was. I was still having difficulty in wrapping my head around what had happened. Still, finding my way to somewhere safe, and more private, was a more immediate need.<p>

_Seriously, where were my clothes?_

I turned down another street and slid into an alley, trying to catch my breath. I had no idea where I could go, or what I could do to try to fix the situation.

Merlin, I wish I knew how to conjure things.

I glance back out the way I had come and noticed some groups of people, who must think that I'm some kind of creep, talking to police. When I saw them point in my direction, I knew it had to be time to go.

I really didn't want to be taken in for this…misunderstanding.

I turned around and ran further into the alley, passing by a group of oddly dressed youths at the other end in a sprint. I could only hope that they didn't see much.

I rushed out along the edge of the next street and snatched the curtain of some restaurant as I passed, which cause a loud crack as I broke whatever had been holding it up. I ran on and ignored the yelling that followed after me.

Sorry guy. My need was a little greater than yours.

With something finally covering my more intimate bits, I got a little bolder and slipped into a clothing store called Marimekko; the fact that there wasn't really anywhere else to hide probably played a factor.

Once in, I stole a rather girly-looking shirt and the first pair of bottoms that I found in a size similar to me. I slipped the items of clothing on and ran out; once again ignoring the ruckus I left behind. It wasn't like I was stealing things maliciously. I just really needed something to cover me.

_I was turning into a right criminal, wasn't I?_

With everything important and/or embarrassing covered, I focused on finding my way back to the magical side of Japan so that I could get the _hell _out of here. My feet were beginning to feel sore from both the running around on concrete and the blisteringly cold temperature of the Japanese winter. As I approached a larger street, I finally came into view of Tokyo Station with relief. I spared a quick check to make sure there weren't any police around looking for me while I headed in.

When I finally made it back to my hotel, it was still early afternoon. Still, I felt thoroughly exhausted. The man behind the desk gave me an odd look, but said nothing as I quickly passed him by to pick up my items from my room. Bastard would probably laugh in my face if he knew what had happened to me today.

My muggle backpack was still sitting were I had placed it. I couldn't be more grateful for having left it behind as I pulled out my own clothes to wear and threw the stolen goods into the corner of the room. The only things that I was missing now were some socks and shoes as well as a coat. I cursed to myself a little as I realized that I had lost the shoes that had been bought less than a month ago. I took a while to simply sit and try to relax as much as I could, nursing my aching feet. Eventually, when the adrenaline had finally worn out, I decided to be on my way. When I walked out of the hotel for the last time, I immediately began searching for a shoe shop and an area to buy either a coat or a cloak so that I could get on my way to some other country where I'd be able to actually understand what was going on around me. It took only about half an hour before I was once more following a map to the shop where I had first arrived in Japan.

I was no longer quite filled with wonder as I approached the desk; merely the determination to leave before I somehow got myself into trouble again.

A glance through the English brochure was enough for me to pick a destination.

"United States. Salem, Massachusetts, please," I said with a satisfied smile. I could remember Hermione once mentioning a Salem Witches School, so they had to have a fair sized magical population. Also, everything would be in _English_.

"Alright, Sir. Step right this way."

…

…

…

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** To be honest, I'm having more and more difficulty gathering the willpower to type, correct, and then post chapters now. While I'm writing this for my own amusement, posting things online simply feels like an unnecessary chore with the lack of interest in the continuation of the story. I apologize to those who have kept up with the story, but I'm not sure that my chapter posts will speed up at all because of this. It's been such a long time since I last actually looked forward to being ready to post another chapter. Still, the next chapter is nearly done, so the wait for it shouldn't be too long.

This is the longest chapter that I've written so far. I hope that might be a small consolation to those of you who are still following this story. And yes, Harry was indeed running naked through Tokyo. XD

I'm not really expecting much, but did anyone catch the mythical references in this chapter that I didn't outright explain in the story? I'm just curious.


	16. The Noble House Mystery

This chapter's suggestion: **Magical Relations** by **evansentranced**. This is an AU story describing Harry's experiences if Dudley had also been a wizard.

Also, thank you to everyone who took the time to review.

*****To those who left unsigned reviews:**

First of all, thank you for reviewing. It's too bad that you didn't sign in because I think a short discussion on it could have been fascinating. I don't agree with everything, but you do have some points. As for some of the others, you have to keep in mind that Everything is from Harry's Point of View. What he doesn't know or see, the readers don't, either. And trying to 'reveal' them to him at this point in time wouldn't work with my story. I try to give **some **hints, but I'm not yet willing to outright explain things until the right time in the story.

-Since I'm all caught up on my own reading, does anyone have a well-written story suggestion for me to check out?

**On the Wrong Side of Sanity**

**Chapter 15: The Noble House Mystery**

_A lie can travel half way around the world while the truth is still putting on its shoes._

_-Charles Spurgeon_

When I arrived in Salem, I was somewhat happy to note that I was already surrounded by other magicals, meaning that it likely wouldn't be as difficult to find the magical section of the city as it was in Tokyo. Therefore, I was delighted when I actually stepped out of the reception area to find that I was _already_ in the magical section. I could tell by a few darkened store windows through which I could see the outlines of cauldrons and other various apothecary necessities. A sigh of relief left me almost involuntarily at the knowledge that I wouldn't have to figure out how to get here.

Once again, I had arrived when it was dark. It was hard to tell whether it was late night or early morning and I was completely unfamiliar with the time differences. There was no moon out, and so only the surprisingly bright light of the stars and the lamps lit around the road provided any light. The night was chill, and I couldn't be more grateful for my new coat. I was glad that I had taken the time to find one before leaving Japan.

I watched as the other magicals that had arrived at around the same time as me dispersed, quickly making their way to various houses in order to get out of the cold. Some apparated away instead, but all left me behind, staring out at the world around me.

It was a slightly less than pleasant three hours that I had to wait before any of the shops even began to open up. I spent the time mostly strolling around the area, occasionally stopping at benches to sit down and survey my surroundings. The buildings were all dark and had an old feel to them. Many shops were similar to those in Diagon Alley with their large windows allowing passersby to see what each place sold. However, the magical part of Salem felt larger and less cramped than its British counterpart. The stores here did not all flow from one into the other without break like they did in Diagon Alley. Instead, there was space in between most stores. Sometimes it was simply a small and dark alley, but others had entire courtyards in between, including nice benches and sometimes well-tended winter-blooming flowers and bushes. There were some less-than-savory people, sometimes wizards, witches, or even Hags, going about their likely illegal activities that left a slimy feeling on my consciousness as I brushed against theirs to assure my safety, but they left me pretty much alone. It was, all in all, rather nice.

As the light of the sun finally began creeping in and dispersing the gloom of the night, so the streets and surrounding shops began showing signs of life. It was a relief for the night to finally be over so that I could stop having to try so hard to keep my eyes from sliding closed against my will.

A groan of my own stomach prompted me to go in search of a place to finally eat. I found one place that opened rather early selling coffee and sweetbreads. I happily ordered and sat down for a small breakfast. The pastry was exceedingly sweet, and I could only imagine the sugar-high that someone could get from eating like this. Still, it was all very good, and I couldn't be happier that galleons were accepted here. I knew that I'd likely have to stop by another bank to exchange my remaining yen into the local currency. It took a moment to remember that they used dollars here instead of pounds. A sip of the coffee that I had ordered nearly caused me to spit it out over the table, but I was thankfully able to stop myself. I poured in an excess amount of both cream and sugar before trying another sip. It still caused me to grimace, and so I set the beverage down again. It just wasn't my cup of tea.

I took some time sitting at the café before I realized that sitting in one place was not going to allow me to stay awake. With my breakfast finished, I stood and looked around. More stores were open now, with some early risers already strolling around the shops. I joined them in unhurriedly looking at what was offered, while hoping to come across a place to stay. I'd probably need to take a small nap to get me through the day, especially with the time difference. It was sure to feel like two days for me.

A pop of displaced air sounded right next to me, making me jump in surprise. Adrenaline rushed through my system, waking me up rather effectively. A glance around showed nothing…until I looked down.

Standing by my feet with a pathetically hopeful look on its wrinkled face and rough, dirty cloth covering its body was a House Elf.

"Master has come! Does Master need something of Dippy?"

I looked at the old creature in confusion. "I'm not…I don't…Who are you?"

"Dippy, Master. Head House Elf of Elm House." Then, the House Elf's ears drooped. "Only House Elf of Elm House." I felt bad for the poor thing, but I had no idea why it had been so excited to see me. I certainly didn't own any property over here. The poor creature was probably suffering from memory issues.

"Dippy," I started, "I'm not from here. I don't own any property here at all, so I can't be your master." Not that I'd want to be, anyway. House Elves just don't think the same way as wizards. I had learned that from Dobby. The last think that I needed was some _other _strange House Elf trying to keep me safe. I had a moment to wonder where Dobby was now with a small shudder.

"Oh, no, Master! Blacks own many properties! Ancient and Noble Houses are owning many places!" he exclaimed.

"I'm not a Black!" I responded, feeling exasperated. I had come here to get _away_ from the insanity that was my life. How come it followed me everywhere?

The elf finally stopped bouncing in excitement and looked at me in obvious confusion from my response.

"Of course you is a Black. The magic calls. House elves answer."

Well, all that time ago, I had been able to command Kreature, hadn't I? And it was quite against his will, too. But I wasn't born a Black. How could I have gotten everything? How was it that _magic itself_ claimed that I was a Black, at least according to the House Elf. It was possible that the old thing was wrong, at least partly.

"Is Elm House nearby?" I asked in curiosity, finally becoming interested in a house that I may or may not own. An entire house, and one outside of Britain, to boot.

"Of course!" exclaimed the House Elf. "Is Dippy taking Master to Elm House?"

"Yes, please," I responded, still uncomfortable with being called 'Master', but already having an understanding about how difficult it was to make a House Elf stop using the title.

* * *

><p>The house that I came to look upon honestly deserved more than the name given to it. The idea that came with the word invoked thoughts of quaint, homey, well-lived spaces meant for families. What I saw looked more like an old museum; clean, but cold. The outside was something like you might expect with trimmed bushes, an abundance of trees, and the occasional flower trying to block one's view of the darkened wood siding. It almost seemed like the house was trying to hide itself among the nature surrounding it. Once inside, though, you could once more imagine the house belonging to the Blacks.<p>

The entrance area stretched up to the roof, making the house seem larger than it truly was. A dark staircase led up to an interior balcony, from which two closed doors could be seen. Just ahead was what had to be a small formal dining room done, unsurprisingly, in darker tones. A small yet still impressive chandelier hung low over a table with six straight-backed and uncomfortable looking seats. This certainly was no Burrow, as it lacked the warm, worn-in feel. Still, I was impressed, as well as grateful not to see any mounted elf heads. Perhaps that was only a tradition in the main residence.

I looked at the House Elf standing near me who was looking up at me hopefully, obviously looking for my approval. I smiled at him as I wondered just how many houses one family could own and if all Ancient and Noble Families had so many properties.

As I sedately gazed around at the large house, I allowed my mind to wander. Looking at all of the various rooms in the building made me wish that I could have escaped to a place like this much, much sooner. It would have been wonderful to have such an option so many years ago. Suddenly, I stopped while staring into a kitchen area.

There was something that I had just thought of, and I almost desperately needed the answer to.

"Is Potter an Ancient and Noble House?" I asked with a tinge of steel in my voice. It wasn't anger at the elf that I had to hold back. He hadn't done anything to me; he didn't even really know me.

No, there was someone else that I would be…upset with if I had a legacy that had been withheld from me.

"No, Master. The Potter House is only a Noble House," Dippy answered, obviously delighted to be able to help.

I couldn't tell what that meant, in all honesty. Was being a Noble House impressive? Did I have duties that I didn't know about? Or properties, even? There were just so many questions that I didn't know the answers to. And why hadn't I been told about this before? I could only hope it was simply because people assumed that I already knew. I decided then and there that I would have to figure this out before continuing my addmitedly leisurely journey around the magical world.

I looked through a few more areas in the house before growing bored and deciding to go back out into magical Salem. It wasn't difficult since my new elf, who had essentially been following my every move through the house, simply popped me back over. It was already late morning and once more my stomach was pleading for food, so I made my way into what looked like a rather run down pub just off of the main street.

After eating at the surprisingly homey-feeling pub, I wandered around the magical shopping district a little more. It was nice to see how few people took note of me even while it seemed everything else was quite similar to Britain. Still, nothing held too much interest to me after the thought that I could possibly have property and duties that I had never known about. It bothered me so much that, after only an hour of checking out the shopping district, I once more found myself heading back to the travelling shop. I couldn't help but ruefully consider how much money I might be throwing away by taking such an expensive trip for only a day and wish that I had learned how to apparate, or at least how to create my own portkey. Still, I felt the need to talk with Hermione and at least try to get her opinion on what I had found, as well as my concerns. If it took a bit of money, well, I had some to spare.

A quick transaction with the wizard behind the counter and I had a set time for my portkey back to Britain. A careful question to the employee let me know that I wouldn't be getting the portkey to myself, which was uncomfortable, but not entirely unexpected.

The trip back was about as uncomfortable as any of the others. I was pulled along by a golden watch with another, though shadily dressed, wizard. The landing was jarring, and it took a few moments for my head to clear from all of the spinning. Going through the shop and out once more into the busy shopping area that was Diagon Alley, I found myself wishing once more that I had a better disguise. No one paid me too much mind, but I was getting some odd looks.

In the feeble light of the dreary british evening, I made my way to a flooing area while hoping that I was remembering the address Ron had once told me correctly. My first priority was to find Hermione, who would likely be able to find the answers to most of my questions. I could only hope that, with our long friendship, she wouldn't be as inclined to turn me in to the Headmaster as she once was.

A shout of 'Waverly Place' and then I was spinning through the floo system, praying that I had the correct address and that I had said it clearly enough not to arrive at some unexpected location. As I finally finished the dizzying journey through household chimneys, I found myself in an unlit, homey living area that had just enough light from the dreary outdoors that I could see some of the pictures hung in the room. And the bookcases.

Oh yes, this was the right place.

The first step that I took away from the Floo was odd, if nothing else. It felt like trying to pass through syrup, but went away quickly enough. I shook off the feeling and ventured into a kitchen, hoping that someone was home and that I didn't startle them too badly. With Ron in Auror Training, I was likely to get a curse to the face before he realised that I was a friendly.

Down a short hallway passed the kitchen, there was an open door with the light on. In relief, I hurried over to the door and stepped inside, bumping the door loudly as I did.

The noise startled a very bushy-haird woman sitting at a lone desk surrounded by texts so badly that she literally jump in the air in fright. She quickly turned around, with one hand on her chest and the other near her wand. When she had a second to calm down and truly look at me, I could see the change in her attitude clearly.

"Oh, Harry! Why…_why _on _Earth_ did you come back? It's not safe here! Haven't you heard?" Hermione exclaimed when she saw me. She stared at me for a second more and shook her head.

"Oh, the things you get yourself into…" she complained in exasperation. I looked at her in both confusion and worry.

What had I done _this time_?


End file.
